


CIA:MissionReports\Katsuki\Log

by CreativeSweets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, But not between Yuuri and Sara or Mila, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Disguise, Endgame Victuuri, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Idiots in Love, Implied Relationships, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Mila Babicheva, Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Sara Crispino, Mistaken Identity, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, Overstimulation, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Premature Ejaculation, Secret Identity, Vicchan Lives, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Victuuri the Gay Disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/pseuds/CreativeSweets
Summary: Please Enter Security Code...Access Granted. Retrieving Mission Reports...ERROR. MEMORY FILES CORRUPT. PLEASE RECONSTRUCT PROFILE....Katsuki Yuuri, akaPeaches 'n' Cream, is a dime-a-dozen honeypot agent for the CIA. He's not surehowhe's convinced so many people that he's halfway competent, but at least the pay is good—when he's not getting shot at, that is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone~! ♪♪♪
> 
> To my returning readers:  
> Thank you so so much for being patient with me! **This** is what I've been working on while I was radio silent—I didn't want to say anything because it looked like I wouldn't be able to finish there for a while, but I made it!
> 
> To new readers:  
> Welcome! Thanks for being interested in my fic enough to click on it! （⌒▽⌒ゞ
> 
> With all that said, _yes,_ this fic is 100% done—expect two chapters per week! Art will be added in where applicable in the story, made by my lovely artist Maja! ([tumblr](https://mikai-art.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mikaiho))
> 
> Please enjoy!!
> 
> You can find the announcement post on tumblr [here](https://corgispacesiren.tumblr.com/post/178772519935/please-enter-security-code-access-granted)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT:** It's come to my attention that it's not clear with the tags as to whether the Yuuri/Sara and Yuuri/Mila will be explicit; so I'm here to say no, it's not explicit—the farthest it goes is a heavy make out session and a couple times it's referenced/implied that Yuuri's alternate persona is dating Sara. I will put notes before the relevant chapters.

Yuuri grips his side and grimaces through the pain. He hopes he’s not bleeding through his favorite sweater. He didn’t necessarily _plan_ to get shot today, but when have his plans ever gone right? He’s brought out of his musings by his earpiece.

_“Peaches, are you okay?”_ Yuuri sighs at his codename. _Peaches_ is only the shorthand—technically speaking—as _Peaches n’ Cream_ is what is officially listed in his file. He still hasn’t forgiven Phichit for throwing that name out back during their early days. It blew up at Langley and now pretty much everyone uses the codename, even when he’s in HQ.

It’s incorrigible.

Yuuri brings his phone up to his ear to maintain an appearance of normality, his other hand digging into his pocket to rub his good luck charm: a gold snowflake pin.

“I think so.”

_FWOOSH._

Yuuri stumbles a bit at the sound and peers back over his shoulder to the apartment complex he was just in. It’s now fully on fire; he’s not surprised.

_“...again?”_

“Hm? Sorry?”

_“I said: are you still listening to me or did you zone out again?”_

“Sorry, Sweet Cheeks. I was a bit distracted by the building on fire.”

_“The what?!”_

“The build—”

_“I know what you said!”_ Sweet Cheeks, also known as one Phichit Chulanont, states. _“How? Explain while you’re walking. You_ are _en route to pick-up, yes?”_

‘Sweet Cheeks’ started as a personal joke. Phichit walked in one morning and declared his codename to be that after a drunken night filled with lots and lots of hamster videos. _“It’s the perfect codename!”_ Yuuri remembers Phichit claiming with stars in his eyes. _“This way everyone will know how absolutely adorable and lovable I am!”_

The whole department was, understandably, exasperated; yet, as with all things related to Phichit getting what he wanted, after about a week of his beady little “hamster eyes” as he liked to call them, the department head caved. Phichit refusing to respond to his “department issued piece of crap codename” also played an important role in this decision. _Sweet Cheeks_ was now a name said unironically.

“I’m headed there now, Cheeks,” Yuuri calmly states, “You know as well as I do how much those Russians love their traps.”

Yuuri grimaces as he recalls the events.

 

* * *

 

**Thirty minutes earlier, Chicago**

After following intelligence on _Lightning_ to Chicago, it is really quite simple for Yuuri to track the young, blonde, perpetually scowling Russian to his little apartment he’s holed up in. From there, Yuuri waits until he’s got a sufficiently large enough time window to creep through the building.

After a tense five minutes of avoiding cameras, guards, and other occupants, Yuuri finally finds himself in front of the heavy wooden door.

_“Remember, Peaches, there might be a door trap.”_

“I know,” he huffs in annoyance. This isn’t his first time picking a potentially booby-trapped door. He’s abruptly pulled into a memory of his time training in Langley—except that door’s trap was a simple pin drop mechanism that, when set off, would blast _Oops, I Did It Again_ from the large speakers right inside the room. Here, he’s more likely to bleed from more than just his ears if he makes a mistake.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face as he listens to the steady clicks of his picks.

“C’mon,” he whispers, biting his lip in concentration.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, he feels the release of the lock and adrenaline surges through his veins as he clutches the doorknob in a deathgrip. He can’t let the door open _too_ quickly. With a steady pressure, he works the door open a few centimeters. It’s as he’s scanning along the bottom edge of the door that he spots it: the telltale criss-cross of thin tripwire pulled taut.

“Thought that would get me, huh?” he whispers triumphantly at his find.

_“What is it?”_

Yuuri ignores Phichit in order to concentrate on the elaborate set up trap. Once he hears the _shing!_ and feels the slack in the lines does he respond.

“Just the Fibonacci’s Cradle,” he explains to intel.

_“Wow, Fibonacci’s Cradle? Talk about old school.”_ A monotone voice fills his ear. This time it’s not his handler, Phichit, but the research and development specialist Seung-gil Lee.

“Any suggestions of what else I might find in here then, Dr. Jekyll?”

Yuuri hears the long suffering sigh; Seung-gil never did like his codename. The dichotomy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde suited the man, even if he adamantly denied it. When he wasn’t listening in on missions or in his lab, he was known as Mr. Hyde—a quick way of signalling to the operative in the field whether they would be able to ask questions and get answers quickly. It’s the difference of being able to disarm the fifteen second old fashioned detonator versus having to find cover from the resulting explosion.

_“Just look out for small traps rigged to other traps.”_

“Will do.”

Stepping into the small apartment Yuuri turns on his heels to evaluate the trap he disarmed. He whistles as he picks up the soup can and hears the _tink tink tink_ of the nails inside it.

A nail bomb. One this size isn’t meant to kill, but to _maim,_ as to be expected from the Russians.

“It’s almost like they knew I would be here.”

_“A possibility,”_ Phichit chirped cheerily.

Yuuri freezes.

“I haven’t been compromised, have I?” His voice wavering. _God,_ he hopes not. This isn’t his normal mission and he accepted only because Mission Control had no one else geographically close enough. He feels his anxiety start to rise and his breath quicken, subconsciously his fingers find his lucky gold pin, the pin that one morning, after going with Phichit to a party, he found tucked away in his clothes.

_“No, we don’t have any evidence of that.”_

Yuuri sighs. It’s always a huge risk going into the field basically dressed in his street clothes. Normally it’s lavish gowns or floaty sun dresses, long wigs, and carefully sculpted makeup. He feels naked going out on a mission as _himself._

“Okay, good. Let me just—”

A faint _snick_ sounds and he reacts on instinct. His hands fly up to protect the back of his head as he crouches as close to the floor as possible. The back of his eyelids turn a bright, bright pink and he’s scrunching his eyes further as he presses his face into his knees.

_“Everything...sounds...—ted?”_

Blinking away the spots in his vision because—wow what a flashbang _that_ was—he frowns at the static coming through his earpiece.

“Sweet Cheeks?” he questions as he continues to walk further into the apartment. His eyes are watering and he really _hates_ the Russians for their “maim not kill” motto they’ve got going on. Now he’s got around three minutes before he needs to leave. It’s not a CIA rule, but a personal one he follows closely. Three minutes is around the time it takes for someone to report a suspicious activity or sound, and by that point a crowd tends to form. While he _can_ get away in those circumstances— _has_ gotten away before—it eases his anxiety to have a mental timer.

He always does perform better under pressure.

_“...way...police…”_ The rest dissolves into white noise before it cuts out completely. Looks like he’s flying solo for the time being.

Making sure to stay light on his feet, he traverses the dingy apartment and does a double-take at the _new_ drawer slotted inside an _old_ desk when it catches his attention. He peers over the drawer and grimaces. Of course it’s a hard-lock trap. He’s never been able to successfully disarm and unlock one before back in training. And of course, the one person who could talk him through it is on the other end of a dead line.

_Is this how he’s going to fail his mission?_

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he grits his teeth and begins the complicated set of maneuvers required. _Breathe,_ he tells himself, _remember your training: steady breath, steady hands. Steady hands get the job done._ It’s a heavy thirty seconds as he fiddles with the bits of metal, only too keen on the precious time he’s got left. It pops open without fanfare and Yuuri could just _die_ because he thinks this one trap just took off ten years of his life. _Two minutes left, now._

His first thought is: _wow, that’s a tiny folder._ The more prevalent thought after is: _oh my god, I actually opened that monstrosity._

Gingerly, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out the manila folder. Against his better judgement he allows curiosity gets the better of him and he flicks the folder open. He isn’t surprised when he’s met with a wall of blacked out lines. The _Silver Fox’s_ picture mocks him in all its blurry glory. Do the Russians not own good cameras _at all?_ He gives up on any more as his timer ticks down to _one minute and fifteen seconds left._

The drawer closes and he hears a small _pop!_ He’s momentarily confused before a sharp pain tugs at his side and then he’s staring at small drops of blood seep out of a _bullet wound._ He grunts and starts to apply pressure and—wow does this sting like a bitch. As he leans over the desk he follows the rough trajectory of the bullet and notices the faint smoke rising from the corner.

“You piece of shit,” he growls out as he plucks the stinger off the desk. The Russians really _do_ go old fashioned. “I can’t believe this,” he rants, slipping into Japanese, _“and the worst part is Dr. Jekyll specifically warned me about the potential for this sort of thing! God, I’m the worst.”_

In a fit of self-hate induced rage, he pockets the old-timey stinger.

_Forty-five seconds left._

He can hear sirens in the far distance.

_Shit,_ he really needs to leave.

The gods do not smile down on him today. As if getting shot by something that could potentially give him heavy metal poisoning wasn’t enough, he faceplants as his foot catches on a tripwire. Biting out a curse, he follows the line towards the open closet. So far nothing’s exploded, but that doesn’t mean that he’s safe. It _could_ be a dud, but with how... _robust_ …old Russian shit usually was, that’s not likely.

He strains his hearing as he pushes himself up and from the higher vantage point he finally notices them: _incendiary charges._ He groans. He’s going to have a _long chat_ with Celestino when he gets back to Detroit. All of this is too much to ask of a _honeypot_ agent.

Voices are sounding out in the hallway; his only escape now is the window, and there’s no way in _hell_ that’s not booby-trapped. Considering now he’s down to _thirty seconds,_ he’s just going to have to bite the bullet.

Even though he already took one to the side.

_Maybe this blood loss will give me the excuse to be sassy as hell on the report,_ he thinks viciously as he forces the window open.

_BANG!_

Naturally, a bang alarm on the window. Why, this smooth getaway is turning out just _great._ He thanks the powers that be that he’s only on the second floor; getting down from higher would be exponentially harder, especially with his wound. With grunts and hisses of pain, he descends with practiced ease.

“Oh sure,” he mutters under his breath on his way down, “‘you’re the only one who can do this’ they said. ‘It’s a simple grab-and-go’ they said.”

He winces as his feet connect with the ground harshly. _Damn,_ this really hurt. Who knew getting shot at close range would hurt so much? He curses as he takes in his shirt, now with fresh red lines soaking around his wound. Thankfully, he didn’t come unprepared, and has his sweater in his backpack.

The sirens are closer; their lights flash from a few blocks away. He pulls on his old university sweater from his bag when he stuffs the manila folder into it. He sighs and tries to stand up straight. _A normal, everyday college student,_ he repeats as his personal mantra.

After a few deep, calming breaths, he walks out of the mouth of the alley, fingering his lucky snowflake pin in his pocket.

 

* * *

 

**Present time, Chicago**

He keeps a keen eye out for _Lightning._ Who knows whether he, or someone with him, heard that bang alarm on the window. He _thinks_ he saw a glimpse of that stark, bright blonde, but it was just a flash, and Yuuri can’t trust his eyes after both the flashbang _and_ the blood loss affecting him.

_“I did warn you about the possibility of layered traps.”_ Seung-gil doesn’t know the meaning of subtlety—because this is straight-up an “I told you so.”

It irks Yuuri, but he tries not to make a scene. The very _last_ thing he wants to do right now is draw attention to himself.

_“What’s your ETA to the extraction point?”_ Phichit asks.

“Oh, probably about ten seconds, I see the damn car,” he grunts out.

Not waiting to confirm that this really _was_ the car he needed to get into, he flops gracelessly into the backseat, groaning as he pulls the door closed.

The driver, a newer recruit named Guang Hong Ji, shoots him a concerned look as he pulls away from the curb.

Well, at least he got into the right vehicle.

_“You alright?”_

“Sure thing, Cheeks,” he mumbles, “I’m in Dragon’s hands now.”

_“Hey, Peaches,”_ Phichit sounds upset, why is he upset? _“Are you sure? Dragon just said you look real pale and are shaking. You_ sure _you’re okay?”_

“‘Mmmmfine.”

_“Peaches? Peaches! Oh my god, I’m so sorry for dragging you into this life, I can’t...”_

“Mmmm...” he acquiesces as Phichit talks on. His eyelids drop from exhaustion; the adrenaline is starting to wear off and everything hurts. A nap simply sounds _divine_ right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three years ago, Detroit**

Phichit’s very thankful his roommate is a normal human being. With his older brother and sister filling his head with horror stories of  _ their  _ college roommates, he was just hoping for someone he could be friends with at best, could ignore at worst. So when he showed up and met Yuuri, he immediately let out a breath. Because Yuuri definitely seemed like  _ best friend  _ material.

A few weeks later, this proves to be the case.

As the air started turning colder, he finally convinces the other to go out for a coffee at a cute little shop a short walk away from campus after putting on his best kicked-puppy look.

“Say ‘Cheese’!” he shouts as he pulls Yuuri closer with his arm around the other’s neck.

He snaps a quick selfie with his tongue sticking out of his mouth playfully. 

“Hey!” Yuuri halfheartedly chides him.

He simply shrugs in response, his fingers tapping away as he creates the instagram post almost absentmindedly. 

“Instagram again?” Yuuri asks, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater as he looks over his shoulder.

“Mhm.” Phichit watches it load up and then he scrolls down his posts, showing Yuuri all the pictures he takes of the various parts of Detroit, and then, further down, of his home back in Bangkok. Yuuri leans back and starts working on the paper he’s got in front of him, chewing thoughtfully on his pen.

_ Wait.  _

Phichit slows his scrolling as he notices similar figures in the backgrounds of some of his photos. There’s...quite a few of an older gentleman with various younger-looking people. A redhead lady, a blonde kid, even a silver-haired man. How did he never notice them before? His brow furrows as he then scrolls up to the photo he just posted.

And there they are: the silver-haired man and the older one are sitting behind him and Yuuri. Except, they don’t seem to be in the shop for the coffee; a slim black briefcase is being exchanged. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick,” Yuuri states. He only makes it a few feet away from their table before he bumps into another person. Short, blonde, and very angry, this person spits something vulgar out at Yuuri before stomping away towards the two men.

Phichit watches Yuuri take a deep breath in before making a mad dash towards the bathroom. He should go after him...but...he bites his lower lip because there’s clearly something fishy going on behind him.

Chills run up Phichit’s arms and he tries to glance around him as nonchalantly as possible. Why does he feel so uneasy? He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through his nose to keep calm. A person sliding into the seat across from him startles him. 

“Uh,” he shakily starts out, “c–can I help you?” 

Unwavering eyes set into a stoic face he’s never seen before stare at him impassively. There’s a pregnant pause as Phichit takes in the obvious asian characteristics. Phichit’s about to threaten to call someone when Mr. Creepy decides to finally speak.

“Phichit Chulanont.”

_ What. The. Fuck. _

“That’s me?” It comes out a squeaked little question and for a split second, he thinks he sees the other man’s lip twitch.

“Born in Bangkok. Has two siblings, an older brother and sister. Spent a year designing a prototype for a Thai electronical medicine tycoon that ultimately was declined for failure to adhere to guidelines about its ‘ability to be mass produced’.” 

Only his family knew he prototyped a small—less than a pea—sized body scanner patch that would take a read of the person it sat on when prompted to, reporting on things like heart rate, blood oxygen, and body temperature.

The unease settling in his stomach quickly vanishes, replaced by a sense of dread.

Mr. Definitely Creepy reaches into his jacket and Phichit’s heart jumps into his throat.  _ Oh god, I’m about to get shot!  _ he thinks, yet as soon as he regains feeling in his legs, a small business card is being thrust in his direction. 

Alight with adrenaline coursing through his veins, he plucks the card out of the stranger’s hand and reads the little nondescript  _ Tina Information Group  _ along with a number underneath it.

“Give us a call.” It’s not a suggestion, yet it doesn’t quite feel like a threat, either. And before he can ask what the hell all of this was about, Mr. Maybe-a-black-market-organ-dealer gets up and walks out the café, hands in his pockets, not once looking back at him.

When Yuuri finally comes back, Phichit drags him out of the café as quickly as he can. 

Well, they can never come back to this café again.

 

* * *

 

It surprisingly only takes Phichit three days to cave. Three days of constantly looking over his shoulder, not posting anything on his social media (which frightens some of his dedicated followers), and fretful nights of sleep. He bites his thumb as the phone rings.

_ “Tina Information Group, how may I help you?”  _

“Ah,” Phichit starts at the sound of a bored sounding woman over the line, “I was told I should call?”

_ “One moment please.” _

There’s a faint  _ whirr  _ and a small  _ crackle  _ and then a deep rich voice is talking to him.

_ “Phichit Chulanont, welcome to the Central Intelligence Agency.” _

 

* * *

 

If someone had told Phichit that before his first semester of college was even over that he’d have a job with the CIA basically collecting photos of random people as they pass through Detroit, he would have laughed his ass off. Yet, here he is, bundled up in a thick coat and scarf, walking with Yuuri towards the Christmas market. His “target” today was  _ Queen,  _ a redheaded Russian who had been spotted coming off a plane. 

They’ve been walking around for an hour now and Phichit was beginning to think that  _ Queen  _ isn’t in the area today. It’s not like this little Christmas village is all that big to begin with. But then he’s going to take a selfie with Yuuri in front of the Christmas tree and he spots her over his shoulder in the frame. 

Snapping a few photos, he realizes with a start that  _ Silver Fox  _ is also there. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest as he walks back to campus.

 

* * *

 

A call interrupts his evening and he begrudgingly answers it. Of course the CIA wants him to follow  _ Silver Fox  _ to a Christmas Banquet. Of course they already procured him an outfit, ride, and tickets.  _ Of course  _ they want him to bring a date so he won’t stand out. 

Which is why he’s here. With Yuuri. Who is—unfortunately—way more glasses of champagne in than what Phichit would consider decent. He sighs as Yuuri gasps way too loud for the umpteenth time this evening. 

“What is it?” he boredly asks. Not that he didn't appreciate the dogs—okay, the little golden retriever puppy  _ had  _ to get pet—but his nerves are shot just trying to keep an eye out for his mark  _ without  _ Yuuri's drunk shenanigans. Which is why, when he turns to see what Yuuri's looking at all starry-eyed, he has to cough to cover up his yelp of surprise.

Of course Yuuri would make googly-eyes at  _ Silver Fox _ . Groaning, Phichit does his best to divert Yuuri’s attention away from the known Russian agent. Which means dragging his best friend and current date to the dance floor. It works for a spell, too, until Yuuri gets the brilliant idea to go yell at some  _ kid,  _ challenging him to a dance battle.

After more yelling, in which Phichit promises Yuuri they’ll stop by a pet store on their way home, he finally gets Yuuri away from the crowds into a side hallway. He’s only halfway to having a normal heart rate again when a stranger decides to walk up to them.

“Christophe,” the stranger introduces himself with a hand out, “a pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” Phichit warily replies as he holds up a drunk Yuuri, “Can I help you?”

Phichit peers around “Christophe” to see his mark looking directly at them. There  _ Silver Fox  _ is, sipping on a glass of champagne. 

Crap. 

Yuuri cheers and throws his hands into the air, causing Phichit’s grip on him to slip. Thankfully, Christophe’s reflexes are good, something Phichit notes, and he catches Yuuri’s other side—along with a hand on his backside. He would enjoy Yuuri’s giggles more if it was someone not  _ probably connected to the Russians  _ touching his best friend. But right now, his paranoia has skyrocketed to an eleven. 

“Careful now,” Christophe says, being too handsy for Phichit’s liking, “you might hurt yourself. Though how you were dancing earlier proves that you’ve still got some capacity to hold yourself up.”

“I’m sure I could still show  _ you  _ a thing or two,” Yuuri giggles.

Oh my  _ god.  _

Phichit nearly whines as Yuuri continues to flirt indiscriminately with Christophe. This is a disaster. He puts on his most charming smile and starts tugging Yuuri towards the exit. They  _ definitely  _ need to leave, the sooner the better. Of course, if Yuuri would stop pawing at their guest this would all go so much smoother.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he tries to plea with Yuuri.

“Ohmigosh!” Yuuri stumbles and looks at him with starry eyes, “Is it petstore time?”

Phichit spares a moment to glance at Christophe and notes the vaguely amused look before nodding to him and half-carrying half-dragging Yuuri out to where their car is waiting. He’s immensely grateful that Christophe decided to  _ not  _ offer to help him. 

As he settles in the back of the car with Yuuri snuggling into his side he finally allows himself to breathe. That whole affair was...way too close of a call. He’s got his phone out dialing his contact as soon as he notices Yuuri’s soft snores.

“Agent,” the monotone voice greeted him, “Update?”

“Hahh,” Phichit sighs before going into a brief recap of the night, confirming that  _ yes, Silver Fox was there  _ and  _ he was there with some “Christophe”  _ and finally a decisive  _ keep Yuuri out of this. _

Naturally, all this is much easier said than done. Especially when Celestino himself states that he wants Yuuri to join the force.

Now he just has to figure out a way to tell Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

Phichit groans and facepalms. His clever “tell Yuuri in a way that makes it seem he’s still the same person and he just so happens to work for the CIA” plan backfired—majorly. What started out as a good, but tenuous, conversation plummeted as soon as he mentioned just how  _ long  _ he’s been working for the CIA. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have been so nonchalant about it all; Yuuri freaked because he appeared all calm and collected.

Now, faced with Yuuri’s locked bedroom door, he knocks ever so lightly and speaks even lighter.

“Yuuri? I know it’s a lot to take in, but I just wanted to let you know that you’re still my best friend, and I care about you a lot.”

Silence.

He sighs. While he kinda sorta expected this result, it still hurt. He’ll give Yuuri a week.

 

* * *

 

The following week is a testament to his monumental patience. And to Yuuri’s skill at avoidance; Phichit’s not sure  _ how,  _ seeing as they’re roommates and share a bathroom. But finally, after a grueling week where Phichit has to plead with Celestino to just  _ give Yuuri some time, please,  _ he gets his chance when his last class finishes early.

“Yuuri!” He busts through their front door. There’s Yuuri, tense and sat on the couch, staring at him.

“Uh, hi?”—Yuuri bites his lip—”You’re back early?”

“I am,” Phichit is quick to agree as he all but skips to sit next to Yuuri, “and now you’re going to talk to me Mister Hideaway-in-my-Room-All-the-Time.”

“About that—”

“Water under the bridge,” Phichit cuts him off with an impatient wave of his hand, “You  _ do  _ realize that I’m still me, right?”

A small nod.

Phichit purses his lips and watches Yuuri fidget. That’s fine, he can wait.

Any moment now.

Aaaaany moment now.

Phichit reaches a whole twenty seconds before Yuuri bursts.

“Why?!” Yuuri screeches now that the dam has broken, “Why tell me? Why are you working for the CIA?”—Yuuri jumps up and starts pacing—”Considering you haven’t killed me yet that means that you were  _ allowed  _ to tell me but I always thought that there were some kind of  _ rules  _ and that people weren’t supposed to—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Phichit is quick to cut off Yuuri’s rambling—quite aware of what happens when he  _ really  _ goes off. “Yes, it’s true I had permission to tell you about all this. Sit back down?”

Yuuri sighs and ultimately flops back onto the couch. Phichit takes a few moments to really  _ look  _ at Yuuri. There are bags under his eyes and he keeps fidgeting.  _ Oh, Yuuri. _

“There’s uh, a reason I was allowed to tell you I worked for the CIA,” he starts anxiously, watching Yuuri’s attention snap to him, “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> I've added a few tags, so please check them out, also, this chapter we start with some honeypot action and so those minor relationship tags will be kicking in. Once again, I put them in the additional tags for a reason~
> 
> With that being said, please enjoy!!

**Present time, en route to Detroit**

Yuuri groans as he wakes up; getting shot _hurts._ He notices Guang-hong’s eye flicker to him before they focus back on the road and he speaks.

“You alright back there?”

Yuuri nods.

There’s silence.

 _Ah, right. He’s driving,_ Yuuri thinks and clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. A quick word of advice though: don’t get shot.”

 _“WHAT?!”_ A loud shriek echoes in his ear.

“Phichit, please.”

_“Don’t you ‘Phichit, please’ me! First off, be glad this is a secure line, and you’re in a secure vehicle. Secondly, why didn’t you say anything about this when you were able to?!”_

“Maybe your codename should’ve been _Mother Hen,_ ” Yuuri mumbles.

_“What was that?”_

“Just said that I should’ve counted to ten.”

Yuuri listens to Phichit grumble with a smile on his face. There’s a long stretch of silence where Yuuri closes his eyes and just listens to the whirr of the engine and the faint classical music playing from the speakers.

_“Hey.”_

“Hm?” Yuuri’s drifting pleasantly between wakefulness and sleep when he hears the faint word from Phichit.

_“When you get back here, you’re grounded.”_

He manages to give a token chuckle at that. “I doubt Tina would let a second-rate agent like me get ‘grounded’ for any amount of time.”

A shocked gasp.

_“Peaches! What have I said about doubting yourself like that!”_

“I believe it’s always some variation of: ‘Stop doubting yourself so much’.”

 _“Alright Mister Smart-Ass,”_ Phichit huffs _, “I guess I just need to remind you of your first mission then—where you kicked ass, need I remind you.”_

“Oh nooo—”

 _“Oh yes”—_ Yuuri can _hear_ the smirk that’s on his face— _”I remember your first time in those_ heels…”

 

* * *

 

**Two years ago, Tokyo**

Tanaka Misaki, a young and slightly shy secretary, steps out of her car into the bright afternoon and sighs.

_“Cheer up Yu—Peaches! This is just a test run of everything.”_

Yuuri huffs; not even five minutes into the “mission” and Phichit nearly calls him by his real name. He tries not to fidget. It’s not that he _minds_ wearing skirts and other traditionally female clothes, it’s simply, he wasn’t expecting for his job to _require_ it.

“Yeah, I know, _Sweet Cheeks,”_ he emphasizes, “we’ve got to make sure that when people look at me they see ‘Misaki’.”

Straightening out his pencil skirt, he makes his way towards the main road—ever thankful for his ballet training growing up; these heels weren’t the tallest he’s ever been in, but they certainly strain his calves in a way that hasn’t in a long while.

“Okay, fill me in again?”

 _“Right.”_ a new voice states—it’s Leo, their _deeper than navigating the interweb surface_ guy—need someone’s bank account? He could hack in there in the blink of an eye. He _did_ hack into the pentagon—on three separate occasions—before the government finally recruited him. _“One Sara Crispino: thought to be connected to the arms dealings coming out from Italy.”_

Italian. There’s a language Yuuri hasn’t spoken too often outside the classroom.

_“Any man she met up with has mysteriously vanished. Including some of our own.”_

“And what makes you so sure that _I_ won’t be among them?”

 _“With any luck,”_ Seung-gil’s voice drones in his ear, _“she’ll be convinced you’re a woman.”_

 _“Hey!”_ Phichit calls out, _“I happen to think Peaches makes a_ wonderful _lady.”_

There’s silence and for all the time that Yuuri’s known Seung-gil, it’s that he _never_ misses an opportunity to sass people. He pauses in his walk as worry seeps into him.

 _“Sorry, Peaches,”_ Leo states, _“Tina came in and told both Cheeks and Dr. Jekyll to behave.”_

“Ah.”

 _“So—”_ Phichit’s response is cut short by Yuuri’s sneeze.

Confused, he looks around at his surroundings and tries to figure out why he sneezed. He takes in the new structures that have been built since the last time he’s visited Tokyo. Spotting a rather cute flower shop that he’s never seen before, he starts toward it.

Shoving down the unease fluttering in his chest, he opens the door and walks in. He gasps lightly as he realizes that it’s not _just_ a flower shop, but a nursery as well. There are assorted plants ranging from cacti to ferns to orchids.

_“Wow.”_

_“What’s ‘wow’, Peaches?”_ It’s Leo this time, he must have heard Yuuri’s quiet exclamation and is also probably trying to determine where he wandered off to via his GPS in his phone.

“This is new,” Yuuri mumbles as he lets his fingers trail over some leaves as he walks further in, “I’ve never seen this store before.”

Humming, he continues admiring the flowers and pointedly _not_ responding to the chatter over his earpiece. He’s perfectly content as he is, but clearly the world has other plans as he ends up bumping into someone moments later, and it’s only his ingrained behavior that has him bowing slightly and rushing out a polite _I’m so sorry!_ to the woman he bumped into.

A bright, somewhat confused smile greets him when he looks back up. He can’t help the blush the creeps onto his face—the lady is _pretty._ No, more than simply pretty, she’s _beautiful._ With vibrant violet eyes, straight and thick glossy black hair, and tanned skin, she offers a few words.

“I’m sorry”—even her _voice_ is gorgeous, Yuuri notes—”English?”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Yuuri to find his voice, but the little stutter he ends up with helps his disguise, so he lays his accent on a lot thicker than normal. “Ah, yes. English is...alright.”

Another blindingly bright smile as the woman bows almost correctly as she introduces herself. “I’m Sara.”

_“Wait! Peaches—”_

_“No freaking way—”_

_“It must be simply coinc—”_

Yuuri tunes out the voices talking over one another on his comms. He tunes out the flower shop and focuses solely on the woman— _Sara—_ in front of him.

On autopilot, he bows back. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tanaka Misaki.” Thank god—he managed to say the right name that matches the ID in his wallet right now.

“That’s right!” Sara says brightly, “You introduce yourself by your family name first, right?”

“Er, yes?”

“Would you mind me calling you Misaki?”

“That’s very…” Yuuri trails off. _Informal_ would be one word to describe the request, but isn’t that what Yuuri wants? “...nice.”

 _“‘Nice’?”_ he hears Seung-gil scoff, _“‘Nice’ is her wanting to hold your hand in the park and chain daisies together, not her asking to call you by your first name.”_

Yuuri flushes. Seung-gil definitely has a...certain way with words. He's saved from further embarrassment when Sara speaks again.

“How would you like to get lunch with me?” Sara places her hand on top of his and rubs her thumb along the top.

Cheers and wolf whistles sound out in his ear and he prays that it's not as loud as he thinks it is. He watches as Sara's thinly-veiled interest morphs into something akin to awe.

“Oh my gosh, Misaki! You're going to have to tell me how you keep your hands so soft!”

_“Get it!”_

_“Wowwie, who knew that Sara liked women?”_

_“Your hands are only soft because you're not using them in more dire situations.”_

_“Wow, Dr. Jekyll, maybe you should be Mister Buzzkill.”_

Sara's standing there with an excited look on her face. Yuuri realizes he hasn't actually answered her yet.

“ _Oh!_ Uhm, yes, lunch”— _a real smooth talker here,_ Yuuri thinks bitterly—”yes, okay.”

“Great!” Sara doesn't seem perturbed by his floundering, instead she seems to get even more excited as she takes hold of his hand and leads him out of the shop. He'll count this as a win.

•••

Sara's idea of lunch is—apparently— _this._

Yuuri stares at the one page menu with no prices listed and can't help but tighten his grip on the damn thing in hopes to control his hand shakes.

This place normally doesn't cater to walk-ins—reservation only. But Sara had simply waved them off, telling them that they can bill it to the Crispinos and they had changed their tune rather quickly. Now that Yuuri had absolute proof that this is his target—he’s _terrified._ Ultimately, he goes with a quiet, _I'll have the same as her_ when the waiter takes their orders.

Without a menu in front of him, he worries the inside of his cheek. His “companions” over at Intel have been strangely quiet and Yuuri doesn't know what to make of it.

“So tell me about yourself, Misaki.”

“Eh?” Yuuri startles at the soft spoken request, but thankfully this is what he trained for. “Well, I'm a secretary.”

 _“Good_ God _, who came up with this background for you?”_ Phichit’s voice is a welcome relief. He's not alone.

“Naturally,” Sara says as she makes a big show of following the line of his blouse. She licks her lips and Yuuri’s blushing again. His face is going to stay a shade of red for the rest of his life. “Do you like your work?”

Now this, this is something Yuuri doesn't have to lie about. He allows a small, fond smile to come out.

“Of course, there's never a dull moment.”

Sara simply hums as she takes a sip of her wine.

He counts his breaths to get them under control as their food is brought out. A sudden moment of clarity and he realizes that it's not _him_ that Sara's flirting with. It's _Misaki._ He feels the relief sing through his body. He can do this. Because Misaki can. No one may actually flirt with _him_ , regardless of what Phichit claims, but as Misaki...

 _“Don't forget to ask her why she's here in Tokyo.”_ Trust Phichit to keep him on task, that _is_ why he became Yuuri's handler.

_“Yeah, girls love when you ask about stuff like that.”_

_“You're not helping, Sombrero!”_

_“Says you!”_

_“Both of you, hush.”_ It falls silent after Seung-gil’s crisp reprimand, and Yuuri almost wants to thank him for it. Almost.

“And you? What brings you to Tokyo?” Yuuri states as he picks up his chopsticks.

“I'm just a tourist”—there are faint grumbles in his ear that she is not simply _just a tourist_ —”I’m here because my brother decided it's time to visit Japan. And it's such a lovely country!”

 _“Her brother? Peaches, try to get a name.”_ Seung-gil speaks rapidly. That's the most emotion Yuuri's ever heard in his voice before.

“I'm glad,” he states before moving on, “I'm glad that you're enjoying yourself.”

“There are other ways I can certainly _enjoy_ myself.”

“T–The parks are lovely at this time of day. We should finish so we can go take a walk,” he manages to choke out.

•••

Coming out of the restaurant, Yuuri feels more confident in being _Misaki._ As Seung-gil helpfully reminded him, he’s been with Sara for nearly two hours now. He’s saved from having to make small talk when Sara’s phone rings and she begrudgingly states that she has to take the call.

Immediately loud, angry Italian fills the air. Yuuri startles and watches as Sara simply holds the phone away from her face and shoots him a small wink.

_“Don’t you realize that it’s not safe for you here?! I care about you too much, Sara.”_

Whoever’s on the other side of the call quiets down and Sara starts talking.

“I don’t need a watchdog, I can handle myself.”

Yuuri desperately tries to look like he _can’t_ understand the rapid-fire Italian. Sara mouths a quick _sorry_ at him. Yuuri’s simply sorry because now he can’t hear what the other person is saying. It’s bad enough through a phone and in a different language, but add in the low volume and there’s no hope for Yuuri to catch the other side of the conversation. He fiddles with the ends of his wig as he stares at his feet.

“You can’t _make me_ do anything,” Sara huffs, “I’ve got someone I want to see in the city for a while longer, anyways.”

A small pause and then the most terrifying sound Yuuri’s ever heard comes screeching out of the phone. Looking over, Yuuri sees Sara had _obviously_ expected this as the phone is once again tilted away from her face.

“I’m not going into this now, I’ll see you later.” Sara clicks her phone off. Immediately it lights up again and she scowls and makes a show of putting the phone away in her purse.

“Is everything okay?” Yuuri asks.

“Everything’s fine,” Sara states with a dazzling smile, “Let’s go see that park you were talking about.”

“This way.”

_“Peaches, which park are you taking her to?”_

_“Sweet Cheeks, you_ know _he can’t reply to you, seriously.”_

_“If he were smart he’d go to the same park the drop’s going to happen in.”_

Yuuri has to admit—somewhat begrudgingly—that Seung-gil _is_ a good operative. He _is_ planning on taking Sara to that park. Zoning out a little bit, he’s startled back into the present by fingertips brushing against his hand. Staring at Sara’s hand, he gently cards his fingers through hers and blushes.

“Let’s find a bench.”

Yuuri lets Sara lead them to a bench slightly off the main path. Once seated, Yuuri finds his anxiety starting to ramp up; he will have to make small talk. How does he do this again? He doesn’t have food in front of him and all the small talk he could muster was used up during their lunch. What sorts of things can he say without blowing his cover? Will he need to remember all of what he says?

 _“Peaches, this is the perfect opportunity,”_ Phichit’s voice filters in, _“time to turn up the romance, Romeo!”_

Turn up the romance? What did Phichit mean, _turn up the romance?_ He’s already sitting here on a bench, holding hands, in a relatively deserted part of the park. Yuuri desperately tries to recount one of the many, many romantic comedies that Phichit and him watched back in the days.

He's still racking his brain for potential ways to _turn it up_ when he notices the look on Sara's face. The way her eyes flicker to his lips is unmistakable—she wants to kiss him! Sara meets his eyes and Yuuri's attention flickers down to her tongue that peeks out to wet her lips. Blushing up to the tips of his ears, he meets Sara’s eyes again as she tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, as she starts leaning towards him, as her hand rests on his neck.

 _Oh my god,_ Yuuri thinks as Sara's slightly chapped lips lightly brush his, _ohmygodohmygod._ Small, callused fingertips smooth over his cheek and settle under his chin. He lets out a small squeak when Sara tilts her head to deepen the kiss. His eyes flutter close as he allows himself to sink into the sensations.

A sudden yell jolts him and they separate. Sara grips his hand and turns towards the noise. As Yuuri follows her gaze, he physically has to hold his breath in order not to scream; there’s two of the Agency’s marks. He had skimmed the mission report to get acquainted with them and there is no mistaking who’s in front of him now. His only question is what they’re doing right _now_ with a briefcase as opposed to in two days time, when their sources told them the exchange would occur.

“What are you _doing,_ Sara!” the man’s Italian fills the whole space with such animosity that Yuuri wants to shrink back, but the steady grip on his hand prevents such retreat.

_“Is that who I think it is?”_

_“No. Way.”_

_“Wow, Peaches, you really know how to find them.”_

Yuuri tries to keep his face a neutral _what’s going on_ look as Phichit and the rest of them banter. He thinks he’s doing a really good job at it too, until he accidentally looks over at the woman.

He blinks.

Did she—did she just _wink_ at him?

His mouth opens a little in shock as he watches the woman glance over at Sara and then back to him with a smug little smile playing on her face. She sticks out her hand.

“I’m Natalya.” Her declaration puts an end to the fighting and Yuuri feels Sara’s grip on his hand tighten.

Fretting for a moment about how he wants to respond, he eventually decides to play it conservative and gives a slight bow from where he’s sitting. “Tanaka Misaki. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

_“I’m not coming up with anything except bogus accounts.”_

_“Of course you aren’t,”_ Seung-gil huffs, _“The Russians are known to be quite old-school with things.”_

Yuuri watches with fascination as Sara’s gaze, which had been warm and welcoming towards him, turns cold and hard as she glares at Natalya.

“And just who’s your _friend,_ Mickey?”

“Just that: a friend.”

_“Mickey? Like the mouse?”_

_“I don’t think he’s named after the character, Cheeks.”_

_“Ahhh, Peaches, get somewhere safe so we can talk this over!”_

Yuuri’s going to have a serious talk when this is all over, that’s for sure. All of this is terrifying—he’s hardly sure if he’s doing a convincing job. Maybe they’re all just waiting for him to slip up so they can take him prisoner.

Sara sighs and stands up, collecting Yuuri’s other hand as she does.

“I put my number in your phone earlier, you should call me sometime.” She punctuates her request with a peck on the corner of his mouth.

He stares bewildered as she turns to walk away with a little wave and a playful _ciao._

 

* * *

 

**Two years ago, Detroit**

Yuuri’s not sure how he ends up back at his hotel. He’s not even sure how he manages to gather all his things on his way back to the States. It’s only when the headquarters building comes into view does the reality of all that happened in Japan sink in. He had gone out disguised as a woman and not only successful in playing his role, but he had _literally_ run into their target.

And then Sara had kissed him. On the lips. He’d been _kissed._

There’s no way Phichit will ever let him live this down.

As he walks into the building, he notices Phichit waiting in the lobby with a huge grin on his face. He steels himself as he determinedly puts one foot in front of the other. Best to get this over with sooner rather than later.

“Yuuri!” Celestino’s voice cuts through the large space and Yuuri could almost cry at his timing. “Come see me in my office.”

Phichit squints at him as he walks by. Yuuri offers him a cheeky smile in return. The smile quickly fades as he steps inside Celestino’s office; his nerves coming back full force.

“So, Yuuri,” Celestino starts, “in light of all the critical information you helped gather in Tokyo, both myself and the higher ups have decided to give you fulltime honeypot agent status!”

“Eh?!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Present time, in transit to Detroit**

Yuuri huffs as Phichit added  _ way too much  _ fluff to that story. 

“You know I was terrified the entire time, yes?”

_ “Pssh, puh-lease. You’ve been dating her for the past two years.” _

“We’re not—!”

_ “Okay, okay, you’re not ‘technically’ dating.” _

Yuuri grunts as the car passes over a bump and a jolt of pain goes up his side. Holding back a hiss, he lifts the side of his sweater and shirt to peel away the makeshift bandage over his wound. 

_ “Everything alright?” _

“I’m just”—he winces as his probing fingers find the exit wound—”just making sure the bullet went all the way through.”

The last time he’d gotten shot it was an accident on the shooting range. Minami was just a new recruit and  _ somehow  _ forgot all of the gun safety rules when Yuuri showed up, and Yuuri ended up with a slug stuck in his thigh. It didn’t hit anything vital, but it didn’t go all the way through—a fact that Phichit mercilessly teased him about being so  _ thicc— _ and he’d promptly passed out when Minako extracted the damn thing. On bad days he still gets twinges, but really, the only  _ truly  _ bad thing to come out of all of it was the Minami seemed...more than just a little contrite. It took a month of dealing with Minami’s incessant hovering before Yuuri was  _ done.  _ He’d taken the brace off early just to get rid of him. He’s not proud of that fact, but he dares anyone to be on the receiving end of a young Minami Kenjirou and  _ not  _ want to yell at him to  _ leave them alone to go to the bathroom in peace.  _

Maybe this time he won’t have to deal with it since it wasn’t Minami who shot him. Maybe.

“Sorry about the mess,” Yuuri directs toward Guang-hong.

“It’s no problem,” came the soft response.

Yuuri grimaces as he presses on his wound and leans his head back. It’s gonna be another long hour before they reach Detroit.

 

* * *

 

**Present time, Detroit, Headquarters**

The moment the car stops Phichit’s there, yanking the door open and helping Yuuri get out of the car. He hisses as he’s helped into the building. He must look as bad as he feels because no one approaches them, not even Minami, who’s fretting about the lobby, flapping his hands around.

As he lays back on the hospital cot, he closes his eyes and hopes that it’s not Minako working today. He’s  _ really  _ not in the mood to get lectured as he’s stitched back up.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

Dammit.

“Minako”—Yuuri opens his eyes and notes the look on her face that tells Yuuri he’s in a lot of trouble—”thanks for taking care of me.”

Minako’s eyes soften and she huffs a bit as she brings over her sterile equipment. “As much as I love seeing you, Yuuri, you know I don’t like seeing you  _ here _ .”

Yuuri simply nods as she goes about the arduous process of disinfecting and stitching him back up.

“What were you even thinking,” Minako continues, eyes focused on his side, “letting your guard down like that? I know you know to keep your wits about you. Honestly”—Minako yanks the sutures quickly and Yuuri tries his best to suppress his hiss—”a stupid  _ stinger.” _

“Well,” he huffs, “it's not like a had a choice, there were badges coming.”

Minako pauses with her hands pressing a bandage on him and then meets his eyes. “You did fantastic, Yuuri, don't let anyone tell you different.”

Flushing from the praise, he nods and lets Minako finish up in silence. He groans as he finally lowers his shirt and sweater back down.

“Now, I'm going to tell Celestino to give you  _ at least  _ two weeks rest. That means no strenuous activities like jogging or dancing.”

“But—”

“Ah! I mean it Katsuki Yuuri,” Minako interrupts, “Give your body a chance to heal for a few days, then we can  _ consider  _ light exercise.”

“Yes, Minako,” Yuuri finally sighs out. He has no doubts that she'll talk with Phichit for updates. There’s nothing else to talk about, so he simply picks himself up and excuses himself.

Phichit, who at least had the courtesy to wait outside, rushes up to him as he steps out into the hall.

“Oh my  _ god _ , Yuuri!”

“You're not allowed to preach at me again, Phichit.”

Phichit's mouth snapped shut and he looks like he swallowed a lemon. He opens his mouth again.

“No.”

That tan mouth closes again and Phichit shoots him a withering look. 

“B—”

“Nope.”

“Yu—”

“Zilch.”

“C’mon!”

Yuuri laughs at Phichit's pouty face and then immediately regrets it as it sends twinges of pain up his side.

“Ah,  _ ow _ .”

Phichit stops and pulls Yuuri to a stop next to him. “In all seriousness, I'm really glad you're alright.”

“It'll take more than a bullet to take me down.”

Phichit grins and then fills him in on all the gossip that went on in at headquarters while he was away on his trip. He's well on his way to feeling astronomically better; Phichit is a master at getting Yuuri out of his own head. Unfortunately, Phichit can't stop his nerves from flaring up as they approach Celestino's office.

“I'll catch you later!” Phichit calls out as he gives a little wave. “Try not to lose your head, cause I feel a movie night coming up!”

Yuuri grimaces. He  _ knows _ , logically, that he did the best he could under the circumstances he found himself in, but  _ believing  _ it is much, much harder. Wringing his hands together, he announces himself and goes in to debrief with Celestino. 

•••

It is quiet.

_ Too quiet _ , Yuuri thinks as he stares at Celestino, who's writing things down and had asked for a few moments to complete what he's working on. He really can't read what the paper says from the angle he's at, so he chews on his lower lip and waits. After an eternity, Celestino sets his pen down with a sigh and then turns to grin at him.

“Yuuri!” he booms, voice immediately filling the room and making him startle, “What a fantastic job! If you weren't already in the field, I'd handpick you to be a fulltime field agent.”

“T–Thanks,” Yuuri blushes. This is a much better reaction than he was anticipating, maybe he'll still have his job after all of this.

“So, Yuuri”—Celestino hands him the papers he just completed—”I unfortunately can't give you the month that Minako wrote for.”

Yuuri peers down at the paper, the big  **Medical Leave of Absence** typed along the top is a pretty big clue. He sees what Celestino approved and as his brows furrow and as he looks back up, a question on the tip of his tongue, Celestino starts explaining.

“Two weeks is really pushing it, all things considered. I really did want to give you more time.”

“But?”

“But”—Celestino sighs—”Intel has it on good authority that in two weeks time there's going to be a gathering in Los Angeles. All the big players will be there:  _ Queen, Lightning, Silver Fox _ .”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ If  _ Queen _ is going to be there, then that means Misaki will most likely have an in.

“The Crispinos are also going.”

“Ah.” So  _ that's _ his in. Sara should be thrilled that Misaki will just  _ happen _ to be in the area around the same time. He steels himself. “Don't worry, Celestino, I can get into this gathering.”

“I don't doubt that!” Celestino laughs loudly. “Just go home and heal up, and don't worry about updates; Phichit is sure to let  _ everyone  _ know how you're doing.”

Yuuri smiles. “You're the best, Ciao Ciao.”

 

* * *

 

**Present time, Detroit**

Yuuri groans as he takes his shoes off. He's finally  _ home. _ Small, tiny yaps sound out along with clicks of tiny nails and then he sees Vicchan barreling towards him top speed. 

“Hey, Vicchan!” Yuuri coos at his poodle as he leans down to give him some long overdue pets. Even after so many years, he's still just a puppy at heart. A loud  _ snap  _ startles him. Looking down, he notices the stinger he picked up had fallen out of his pocket. Biting his lip, he bounces it in his hand. Maybe he should bring this to Seung-gil to look over. But it’s such an old piece of tech that they probably have so many already. Plus, it’d be kind of neat to have the stinger that shot him.

Determined, he pulls out his small box from its hiding spot in his mattress frame and places the stinger inside. He wistfully looks over the other items, fond memories attached to each one. He’s broken out of his trip down memory lane by Vicchan, who clearly thinks he’s not been given enough pets yet. After securing his box he scoops Vicchan up and brings him out to snuggle on the couch. 

A loud click wakes him up and he falls off the couch with a solid  _ thud _ . He groans as the pain shoots up his side and then he remembers where he is and lets out a long, suffering sigh. That click is clearly Phichit coming—

“I’m ho~ome!” Phichit sings out. He hears Phichit give Vicchan a few pats and an encouraging  _ hey, buddy!  _

“Welcome back,” he croaks out, his throat dry and scratchy. Clearing his throat, he listens to Phichit thump his way out the the living room.

Phichit drops the bags with takeout in them on the table and gives him a once-over.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” Yuuri is quick to answer.

“Touché”—Phichit starts unloading the takeout containers—”I heard someone order a lazy movie night!”

•••

Yuuri is  _ bored.  _ This is only day three of his mandatory rest period that Minako pushed on him and he’s ready to do literally  _ anything else  _ except for sit around. Just this morning, he even woke up earlier than normal to beat Phichit awake, thinking he might be able to take Vicchan for his morning walk. Except Phichit hid the leash on him, and promptly found out when he came out of his bedroom. He shoots another half-hearted glare at his captor.

“Hey man,” Phichit starts, not even taking his eyes off his phone, “I promised Minako I’d keep you  _ resting  _ for the first week.”

“Yes, bu—”

“But nothing, Yuuri”—Phichit’s fingers finally pause and he looks up—”Taking a walk is  _ not  _ resting.”

“Vicchan—”

“—is just fine with me taking him on a walk.”

Without any more arguments available, Yuuri grumbles and sticks his tongue out at Phichit.

“You can take Vicchan for a walk”—Yuuri perks up—” _ when  _ you’re allowed to.”

“Fiiine,” Yuuri finally agrees with a sigh. He watches sullenly as the leash is clipped on Vicchan’s harness and Vicchan starts yapping at the door.

“Be right back!”

The door clicks shut and Yuuri stands there a few more moments, listening to the two of them walk away from the door. After counting a full sixty seconds, he tentatively opens the door. 

_ Buzz! _

Yuuri yelps as he fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket. Opening the text from Phichit, he groans.

_ Don’t even think about taking a quick stroll while I’m gone! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads up: there are two photos in this chapter ♪♪♪
> 
>  **Please note:** If you're on a computer, you can hover over the Russian in this chapter for a translation, if you're on mobile I've made footnotes to the translations!

A week of _rest_ and he can do limited mobility without the risk of opening up his stitches. Phichit squints at him as Yuuri tries to reign in his excitement. Finally, _finally,_ he can go outside and take a decent walk. It’s a far cry from his usual morning jog, but it’ll have to do. Vicchan’s sharp bark makes Phichit sigh a little as he drops the leash into Yuuri’s hands.

“Don’t make me regret giving you that.”

“I’ll just be at the park,” Yuuri states as he clips the leash to Vicchan’s harness.

“The park only two blocks away, yes?”

Ah. Busted. There happens to be a park that’s a bit further out, and would mean carrying Vicchan back, but of course Phichit would call him out.

“Yes, the park only two blocks away,” Yuuri confirms with a sigh.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Great! Now go have fun and don’t strain yourself _too_ much.”

Yuuri closes the door behind him with a fond little shake of his head. Straightening out his oversized dark blue sweater that falls to his midthighs, he addresses Vicchan.

“Well Vicchan, are you ready for a walk?”

Vicchan responds by yapping while twirling in little circles. Yuuri chuckles as he starts strolling along at Vicchan’s pace. With Vicchan trotting on his little paws, along with stopping every few steps to sniff at things, all Yuuri really has to do to keep up is walk normally. Yuuri scans the street and stops when he notices a _really_ good looking man.

Yuuri flushes as he takes in the trimmed platinum blonde hair and broad shoulders, the sharp clothes and— _oh fuck._ Yuuri quickly diverts his eyes as Stranger Danger turns to face his direction. Regretting that he’s wearing only his simple black leggings underneath his sweater, he starts heading towards the park, anxious to get away. The only thing more embarrassing than getting a hard on from looking at a really handsome stranger, is having that same stranger _notice it._ Peeking back, he notices that the man’s still staring in his direction and he panics slightly as the man starts towards him.

“Ах боже мой, какая прелесть!” [1]

The sudden Russian sends Yuuri for a loop. Handsome Man crouches low to start petting Vicchan.

“А кто это у гас такой пушистый? А кто нас такой милаха?”[2]Handsome Man coos at Vicchan. Yuuri’s pretty sure grown ass Russian men don’t normally baby talk little dogs. He stands there uselessly as Handsome continues.

“Какие мягонькие щёчки, какие маленькие лапки! Кто хороший мальчик? Кто у нас хороший мальчик? Правильно, ты, такой хороший-хороший, пушистый пушистый!” [3]

The man is now sitting on the ground, making kissy noises and little coos at Vicchan—who is simply eating up the attention and jumping up to repay the kind stranger.

“Ты ж моя милаха!  Ха-ха, нет, лицо облизывать не надо!”[4]

The man seems completely enthralled with Vicchan. Which, Yuuri supposes, is a good thing, seeing as Vicchan is sparing no mercy while he covers the man’s face with slobber from his enthusiastic kisses.

Sputtering, the man finally opens his eyes to look up at him and freezes. Yuuri tenses in response. Then Vicchan barks and it’s like the bubble pops; the man hastily picks himself up and clears his throat, a faint blush spreading along his cheeks.

“Ah…” Handsome Stranger starts, “Cute dog.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri mumbles as his face heats up. Handsome Man is much more handsome up close.

“So, uh,” Handsome fumbles, “coffee?”

“What?”

“Do you want to get coffee?” The stranger pauses as the question hangs in the air. “With me?” he suddenly clarifies, “Do you want to get coffee with me?”

Yuuri huffs a light laugh out. “Sure.”

•••

“So what are you doing here in Detroit, Yuuri?”

Yuuri hides his grimace at the fact he let slip his real name by taking a quick sip of his coffee. “I’m a college student.” He actually graduated three years ago, but he still looks the part.

“Oh? What’s your major?”

“Business.” _Lies._ He was a linguistics major.

“Ah, I bet that’s a lot of work.”

“Sometimes,” Yuuri laughs, “and you? What brings you to Detroit?”

“Oh!” Victor brightens and his smile grows big as his hands hands splay out in front of him, “I’m here to model.”

Model. Victor’s a _model._ Of course he is—all handsome and tall and, and, and _handsome._ A classy business card is held out to him and he gingerly takes it and then looks at the pretty cursive and sleek design. There’s a website listed. Yuuri might just have to take a look at that later.

“What do you model?”

“Clothing, mostly”—Yuuri nods as he takes a sip of his drink—”And sometimes the occasional lingerie shoot.”

Yuuri sputters, bringing his napkin up to his face to hopefully hide how pink his face is as he coughs up the coffee that ended up going down the wrong pipe.

“That’s nice,” Yuuri ends up saying after he’s gotten his breath back. The look of mild concern on Victor’s face vanishes and a heart-shaped smile takes its place.

“Thanks!” Victor states brightly. “So how long are you in the city for?”

Yuuri blinks. Is this a test of some sort, or is Victor really that forgetful? “Uhm, I’m in college? So, uh, for a few months.”

_“Right.”_

Silence.

Yuuri looks back up at Victor’s pink face and goes to thank him for the coffee when his phone chimes. That’s the tone he uses for Phichit. What does Phichit want? Unlocking his phone, he winces at the time; he’s been gone for around an hour now. _Whoops._

 _What are you doing?! Leo called to tell me that_ Silver Fox _is in town and not thirty minutes later he called me again to tell me that you’re having coffee with him!_

Whoa, wait. _Silver Fox?!_ Yuuri hides his panic as he looks up at Victor quickly before back down at his phone. There’s no way Victor could be _Silver Fox._ The Russian spy who—

“Everything okay?”

“Oh”—Yuuri startles a little before recovering and waving his phone a little—”My roommate just reminded me of a project I should be working on.”

“I see.”

Victor looks so crestfallen. Yuuri flounders momentarily before firming his resolve.

“Do you...want my number?” he cautiously asks.

Victor lights up like a Christmas tree and then Yuuri’s got a phone in his hand open to a new contact page before he knows it.

“Yes please!” Victor beams as he peers over the table to watch him put his number in.

“Here.”

Taking the phone back, Yuuri watches Victor tap a few times and then his cell chimes with a message from an unknown number with simply a little heart sent. He quickly saves the contact info before he can get nervous. Picking up the leash, he quickly thanks Victor for the coffee before briskly walking in the opposite direction of his apartment.

•••

Yuuri walks into the apartment with Vicchan under his arm. The poor poodle had to walk a bit farther than normal because Yuuri was paranoid. So naturally Yuuri carried the tired poodle when he decided to turn around and go a roundabout way back home. He’s just unclipping Vicchan when Phichit pops into view.

“So.”

Yuuri sighs. _Here we go._

“You decided to have coffee with a total stranger that just _happens_ to be a Russian spy. Cool, cool.”

Yuuri silently pleads for Phichit to be done, but he knows it’s a futile wish.

“And not just any Russian spy,” Phichit continues, “but THE _Silver Fox._ I can’t leave you alone for a single day unsupervised, can I?”

“There’s no way that Victor is _Silver Fox_ ,” Yuuri finally interrupts. The photo in the small folder he nabbed back in Chicago looked _nothing_ like Victor—but then again, it _was_ pretty blurry.

That stops Phichit mid-rant.

“Victor?”

“That’s what he introduced himself as: Victor Nikiforov.”

“Oh, my, _shit,_ Yuuri!” Phichit gasps, “He told you his _name?”_

“Uhm, yes?” Yuuri answers, but Phichit is already on the phone dialing what Yuuri assumes to be Leo.

“Hey, so, check up on the name ‘Victor Nikiforov.’ That’s the name Yuuri was told earlier.”

Phichit hangs up just as quickly and looks back at him.

“There’s no way though,” Yuuri states the thought that’s been running around his mind, “There’s no way that Victor’s a spy.”

“Oh?” Phichit crosses his arms, “I’ve seen the photos, my first assignment was tracking him, _you were having lunch with Silver Fox,”_ Phichit stresses, “but please, tell me, why’s that?”

Yuuri stops himself from wondering why Phichit never mentioned tracking Victor—probably Need to Know—and instead thinks back over how they first met, how Victor cooed at Vicchan and allowed the tiny dog to give him lots of kisses. He thinks of how Victor blushed and invited him to coffee, of the _poodle_ that Victor owns and who’s the background and lockscreen of his phone.

“Well, he likes poodles,” Yuuri finally settles on.

“So? _You_ like poodles and _you’re_ a spy.”

Yuuri nods thoughtfully. Touché.

 _Oh god,_ Yuuri thinks, _I had coffee with the literal_ best _Russian spy the Agency’s ever known._ If Intel knew enough that they contacted _Phichit_ to tell him that he was having coffee with a Russian spy, did that mean that there’s _photos_ of the two of them? He knows firsthand how thorough Intel can be, taking photos of their own operatives incase they come across any suspicious characters. That means the _Russians_ could have photos too. But sometimes, sometimes it takes time for the camera operatives to show up. He wasn’t with Victor for _that_ long.

“Phichit, Phichit _please_ tell me there aren’t photos of us.” Yuuri dreads the answer but needs to know.

Phichit presses his lips into a wan, thin smile and Yuuri groans.

“Really?!”

•••

“Do you think he knows?” Yuuri asks over breakfast the next morning.

“Do I think _who_ knows _what?”_ Phichit looks over to him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Victor. Do you think he knows I’m a spy?” Yuuri wrings his hands together. Last night had been _terrible,_ his anxiety taking his wonderful time with Victor and overanalyzing it to the point where every movement, every word, was critiqued.

“Uh,” Phichit raises an eyebrow, “unless you changed into a dress and a long wig, no, I don’t think he knows.”

Yuuri whines and pouts. “But this is _Silver Fox,_ you know, the Russian spy thought to be responsible for the dirt on Queen Elizabeth, the bugs in the White House? Oh! And don’t forget about—”

“—the large car accident that killed the Prime Minister of Spain, _yes,_ Yuuri, _I know,_ ” Phichit finishes off the top points of Victor’s reputation. “So unless you told him you’re _Misaki,_ I think you’ll be fine.”

 _Whew._ Yuuri finally slumps back in his chair.

“Wait a hot second,” Phichit starts and narrows his eyes at Yuuri.

_Uh-oh._

“What _did_ you tell him your name was?”

Well, _shit._

“Uh…”

 _“Yuuri,_ tell me you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t help it!”

“Gah! You’re hopeless”—Phichit shakes his head at him—”Put you in front of beautiful women as a lady yourself you’re suave as fuck, but an equally hot guy in front of you and you turn Pride Parade Gay and forget everything you’ve been taught.”

“That’s not fair, you know how I operate.”

“That’s right, since it’s _Misaki_ doing the seducing, clearly there’s nothing _Yuuri_ about it and thus you personally have no charms, yes?”

Yuuri nods.

Phichit sighs.

They fall into their normal morning routine after they finish breakfast, except Yuuri’s still in his pajamas as Phichit’s walking out the door. Yuuri shuffles after him uselessly while holding Vicchan and watches him pull on his shoes and open the door.

“Okay! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Phichit calls out as he closes the door behind him.

A beat passes and Yuuri turns to head back to his room. Then the door opens again and Phichit sticks his head in.

“You know what I mean”—Phichit waves his hand in his general direction—”within your current limitations.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, cool.”

The door stays shut this time.

•••

Back in his room Yuuri stares at the little heart that Victor had texted him as he thinks over their meeting for the billionth time. If Victor really _is_ a spy...Yuuri plucks the business card out from his bag and stares at the website name. Biting his lip, he twirls it around a few times before picking his phone up again and typing in the website.

As he stares at the loading bar, he wonders what he’ll find. Maybe it’s a dummy website, and he’ll just be stuck forever loading. Or maybe there _are_ model photos but Victor’s head will be badly photoshopped—

He chokes as the site finally loads and he gets a _definitely not photoshopped_ Victor staring out at him in a sparkly pink speedo. That’s certainly the correct way to go to snag someone’s attention.

His is most certainly snagged.

Biting his thumb he lets out a pitiful whine because Phichit’s not there and Victor is too beautiful for words. And since he has no brain to mouth filter, he quickly switches over to his messages and texts Victor a string of unintelligible keyboard smash before finally admitting he loaded up the website.

Yuuri blushes as he realizes _exactly_ what he just did. He gets no time to truly regret his decision as Victor’s response is immediate; about a dozen hearts and exclamation marks fill his screen ending with a short _“like what you see ;)”._

Yes, yes he does.

Quickly switching back to the website, he adamantly ignores the incoming texts from Victor, instead choosing to drool over the plethora of photos, ranging from half-naked open button-downs in the summer shoots all the way to classic trench coat ensemble. But as Yuuri’s scrolling, his page disappears and it starts loading. He checks the url and he’s still on the main website—he must have fat-fingered the screen a bit.

There’s no stopping the high pitched shriek that comes out, sending poor Vicchan into a barking fit and jumping out from his doggy bed in the corner. Clearly Victor _wasn’t_ lying when he said he modeled lingerie. His breath hitches as his eyes flick between the various photos of a scantily-dressed Victor in all manner of poses. He’s drawn to the photo of Victor in a mockup of a prince’s outfit—thin, wispy pink fabric billow down his front accented in gold sparkles.

Can someone die from blushing too hard? Yuuri thinks he _must_ be close. But then he reaches the bottom half of the photo and _knows._ At least now he won’t die from blushing, seeing as all the blood has gone straight to his dick.

 _“Fuck,”_ he whispers breathily in the empty of his room. Right there, on his much-too-tiny screen, is a rather _large_ bulge accented by golden chains and taut satin.

Switching his phone to his other hand, he quickly frees his cock from the confines of his pajamas. He groans as his strokes get eased by the wetness leaking from the tip. Clumsily, he scrolls down to the next picture, working himself over faster at the nearly _pornographic_ photo. He drops his phone quickly in order to grip the base of his cock, holding the skin taut as he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

He comes with a gasp and Victor’s name on his tongue, and for a few blissful seconds his whole world turns white. And then the realization of what he just did hits him like a mack truck.

Oh, _shit._ He just—he just used _Victor_ as wank material. How is he ever going to be able to speak to him again?!

Groaning, he flops back on his bed and flings an arm over his face, his shame slowly cooling on his exposed stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1"Oh my God, what a precious little one!"[return to text]
> 
> 2"Who is so fluffy? Who is so cute?"[return to text]
> 
> 3"Cheeks so soft, paws so small! Who's a good boy? Right, you are, so so good, so so fluffy!"[return to text]
> 
> 4"You're such a cutie! Haha, no, no licking my face!"[return to text]


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri learns quite a few things about Victor that seem to counteract the whole “Best Russian Spy” thing over the course of the next three days. Some of these things include: 

  1. Victor, if given a moment of your time, will talk your ear off. And it seems he, too, _does not_ have a brain to mouth filter  
  

  2. Victor’s cluelessness must be a Genetic Thing



and finally,

  1. Victor is an even bigger _dork_ than he originally thought



It’s a combination of these facts that has Yuuri replying to Victor’s texts, if only for  _ one more  _ goodnight,  _ one more  _ silly story,  _ one more  _ poodle picture. Yuuri is smiling more than he ever has before—so of course Phichit picks up on this.

“Dude, since when do you  _ actually  _ respond to texts on time?” Phichit casually asks him one morning.

Yuuri freezes. Phichit zeroes in on this.

“What are you doing with your phone Mr. Leaves-my-phone-on-the-table-so-long-it-dies-because-I-forgot-to-charge-it?”

“Uh,” Yuuri starts, adamantly  _ not  _ looking at Phichit, “I just feel like it?”

Yuuri can  _ feel  _ Phichit’s eyes narrow and braces himself.

“You just…’feel like it’? Really? Like how you just  _ feel  _ like smiling every time you look at your phone?”

“Uhm...yes?” Yuuri finally makes eye contact with Phichit and tries to put on his best  _ please leave this alone now  _ face on.

He sees Phichit start to crack. He ramps up the look by pouting a little, adding an unspoken  _ pretty please?  _ to it.

Phichit sighs.  _ “Fine,  _ keep your secrets.”

Yuuri sends a beaming smile at Phichit as he grumbles but goes to work with minimal resistance. Once Phichit is securely more than a few blocks away, Yuuri rushes to pick up his phone to see a new message from Victor, if his heart flutters when he notices, no one is around to hear it.

_ Let’s meet up again :) _

Yuuri stares at the text on his phone and bites his lip. It would be an  _ incredibly  _ stupid decision to agree to this. His thumbs twitch anxiously over the screen. But it’s not like Victor  _ knows  _ that he’s a spy, right? His brow furrows as he works his lip more. It would still be a really, really,  _ stupid  _ thing to do. Before he decides anything, another text pops up.

_ I wanna see your pretty face again :c _

Yuuri groans and hopes that Phichit will forgive him.

•••

There’s something to be said about a healthy dose of paranoia. For Yuuri, this means that he’s well aware of the owner of this particular bar being a tin-foil hat sort of person. So the chances that there are bugs or other tech is slim to none. And since he arrived in the early evening, the bar isn’t packed, and he easily finds Victor sitting in the back corner.

When Victor notices him, he rushes to stand up and ends up bumping the table, making the glasses clink. Yuuri suppresses a chuckle as Victor lets out a panicked yelp and steadies the table. He can’t help the large grin that breaks out as Victor rights himself with a deep breath and flicks his hair out of his face.

“Yuuri!” Victor greets him brightly, like he didn’t just flounder  _ spectacularly  _ right in front of him just seconds ago. “You made it!”

“Yes?” Yuuri sits down across from him and really does chuckle when Victor hits the table again on his way down.

“I’m glad, I mean, I really was hoping that you were at least twenty-one but then I remembered you were still in college and  _ then _ I remembered that some college students aren’t  _ actually  _ twenty-one yet and I never really asked what year you were in so I guess it’s really fortunate that you’re at least twenty-one!”

Wow. Yuuri wonders silently how Victor can breath saying that much in one go, but based on how pink Victor’s face is now, Yuuri has to conclude that he must simply have very large lungs tucked away in that broad chest of his. Not that Yuuri’s thinking about that large chest he happened to see bare from the photos on the website. His face flushes to match Victor’s. Thankfully, the bartend comes over and prevents the awkward silence from growing.

Yuuri’s not surprised that Victor ordered vodka, however, he is surprised that he ordered—

“Three shots?” Yuuri questions with a raised eyebrow when they’re alone again.

“It’s fine”—Victor waves his hand dismissively—”I’m  _ Russian,  _ our blood is vodka.”

“If you say so,” Yuuri laughs lightly. Victor definitely  _ looked  _ like he could still stand upright after three shots; tall and broad with deliciously defined pecs that bounced  _ ever  _ so slightly when he—

Their drinks arrive and Yuuri silently berates himself for thinking about what Victor’s packing underneath his snugly fit shirt. Victor wastes no time knocking back a shot and giving Yuuri front row seats to the long pale expanse of his throat. Yuuri whimpers. 

The shot glass hits the table with a faint  _ clack  _ and Yuuri realizes he’s staring, straw halfway to his slightly open mouth. But Yuuri couldn’t care less, given how Victor’s tongue just darted out to collect the few drops from his lips— _ boy  _ what Yuuri wouldn’t do to be some vodka right now. And then bright blue eyes meet his and he looks intently down at his fruity concoction and little cherry and pointedly denies how red his face must be as he drinks. 

“I’ve never had one,” Victor all of a sudden says in the faint quiet of their corner.

“Never had one what?” Yuuri’s really confused as he places his drink down.

Victor nods to Yuuri’s drink. “A  _ Sex on the Beach _ .”

“Oh.” His choice was almost completely random; he defaulted to what he normally orders when he’s out on a mission.

“Is it your favorite?” Victor presses as he places his chin in his hand and Yuuri blushes at the husky quality that his voice picked up.

“Uhm, m–maybe.”  _ Ahh, Phichit is right, I  _ do  _ forgot everything,  _ Yuuri thinks helplessly as his flush deepens at Victor’s smirk.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

_ Think Yuuri, think.  _ “Ah, well…” He looks over Victor’s shoulder briefly before meeting his gaze again, “I grew up by the ocean.”  _ Fuck, that’s so uncool. _

Victor hums as he fiddles with his second empty shot glass. “So you’ve had many ‘sex on the beach’s?”

“I suppose? Do you...want a taste?” Yuuri pushes his glass towards Victor.

Yuuri watches with rapt attention as Victor’s long fingers curl around the glass and the straw and oh my  _ god  _ is he—

He manages to keep all the screeching  _ inside  _ his head—but it’s a near thing. Victor is—! He’s—! Yuuri accepts his glass back and tries to get the image of Victor’s plush lips wrapped around his straw out of his mind. If he drinks from his straw now, then that’s like an indirect kiss! But if he  _ doesn’t  _ then would that be rude?

“That’s delicious,” Victor says as he smacks his lips, “I look forward to sharing more  _ sex on the beach  _ with you.”

Yuuri’s brain screeches to a halt. Wait. Is Victor—is he  _ flirting _ with him? His mouth pops open a little as he stares. There’s no way.

Victor looks away from him and knocks back his third shot, coughing a little as he does. He watches as Victor, with a  bright red face, waves down the bartender to send more drinks. 

Maybe...maybe Victor really  _ is  _ flirting with him.

•••

“Why not?” Victor whines as he drapes his mostly naked form over Yuuri.

Yuuri never would have pegged Victor to be a  _ clingy  _ drunk. After losing the battle of the Shirt and Pants, Yuuri will take his victory with the battle of the Underwear, which in this case, refers to the black  _ thong  _ that Victor’s wearing. Their only saving grace is that they’re in the back corner of the bar, meaning Victor’s  _ activities  _ aren’t garnering too much attention.

“I will not hand feed you peanuts, Victor!” Yuuri repeats as he attempts for the third time to get Victor’s shirt on him. It’s made much more difficult with Victor shoving handfuls of peanuts his direction.

Somehow between Yuuri leaving to use the bathroom after figuring out that Victor  _ was  _ flirting with him and him coming back, Victor had drunk enough to get like  _ this. _

“Yuuri doesn’t love me!” Victor suddenly wails and Yuuri panics. 

It is time to leave.

“Fine!” he passionately whisper yells as he shoves Victor’s clothes at him, “I’ll hand feed you peanuts but  _ please put your clothes back on _ .”

Victor flounders as his clothes smack him in the face with his lack of coordination. “Really?” he says too brightly for the calm atmosphere of the bar.

“Shh,” Yuuri tries to quiet him as he hastily sends apologetic looks at the other patrons of the bar, _ “Yes,  _ I will, after we leave.”

Victor pauses with his shirt halfway on. Yuuri nearly groans.

“But there won’t be peanuts.”

_ Of all the times to actually make sense… _

“Put your clothes on Victor, please,” Yuuri sighs, defeated.

Victor pouts a little but continues dressing. He’s ever so thankful that the bartender had called a cab for them; there’s no way Yuuri can carry Victor farther than what is absolutely necessary. So with more finagling and promises of hand fed peanuts, Yuuri finally gets his overgrown drunk octopus into the back of the taxi.

Yuuri pauses when the driver asks where they’re going. He can’t take them back to  _ his  _ apartment that he shares with  _ Phichit.  _ And getting a hotel room…

_ “Let’s go to my place!” _ Victor shouts in Russian.

“Where do you live?” Yuuri asks, but he just as well could have been speaking to a brick wall, Victor now waxing poetic in Russian about how large his place is and how it’s the perfect place for Yuuri to live with him. Yuuri tries a different tactic.

_ “Where do you live?”  _ Yuuri repeats his question in Russian. The effect is immediate and Yuuri cannot believe that Victor could get any closer to him.

_ “Of course my Yuuri speaks Russian, that’s the best! You’re the best! This whole place we’re in is the best because my Yuuri lives here~!”  _ Victor sing-songs.

Finally, after a lot of convincing, Yuuri gives the address to the driver.

He’s going to have to tip the poor cabbie a  _ lot. _

•••

Yuuri is thankful that it’s dark outside. And that the cabbie has his music playing a little loud and the division closed. Because this way no one is witness to his permanent flush and the cutesy cuddly Russian spewing from Victor’s mouth. 

He doesn’t know whether he wants Victor to remember all of this or not. If it were him, he’d just die from embarrassment.

_ “I’m so sad,”  _ Victor pouts after his long tirade about how his eyes were the prettiest shade of brown he’d ever seen.

_ “Why are you sad?” _

_ “I have to leave. Go away. Fly on a plane far from this place.”  _

_ “Why?”  _ Yuuri tries to reign in his disappointment. Of course whatever they had wouldn’t be a permanent thing—both of them have jobs that require traveling.

_ “My boss wants me to go to some party in LA or something.” _

That’s right. Yuuri recalls being debriefed with Celestino. He  _ did  _ mention  _ Silver Fox  _ would be there. 

_ “I just wanna stay here with my Yuuri~” _

Yuuri laughs as they finally pull up to Victor’s apartment complex. Of  _ course  _ it’s a ritzy place with a doorman and at least a dozen security cameras. He takes a moment as he’s paying (and  _ tipping _ ) the driver to question what life choices brought him here. This only ends up giving him a headache as he half carries Victor to the door. 

Clearly Victor must be memorable here, as the doorman let them in no problem and even told Yuuri that Victor lives up in the penthouse. Naturally.

As Yuuri steps into the foyer he gives a cursory glance around and spots three surveillance cameras. Immediately he plots his course to minimize the chances of his face being caught. Victor’s drunkenness is the perfect excuse to get to the elevators in a rather convoluted path, and once in the elevators, all he has to do is keep his head down and any standard camera in the elevator won’t pick up his face. Hell, with the way Victor’s draped over him, even his  _ height  _ won’t be accurately readable.

Yuuri shoots a tired smile at Victor who starts belting out in a poorly translatable Russian drinking song as soon as they step off the elevator. He hopes that Victor won’t get kicked out after this.

Victor gasps in recognition when they enter the apartment and then suddenly there’s a  _ very naked  _ Russian standing next to him. The door clicks shut behind them and Yuuri stares in horror as the black thong gets flung across the room.

_ “Victor!”  _

“Yuuri!”

_ Oh shit, bad decision bad decision!  _ Yuuri blushes horrendously as Victor No Shame turns around and Yuuri gets an eye full of Russian cock. He sputters as Victor gets closer and he takes a step back to maintain distance. This only works for so long, however, and his back meets the door much too quickly for his liking. He clenches his eyes together as Victor crowds his space.

Victor smells heavily of vodka and is way too close for comfort. 

_ “Yuuri~”  _ Victor purrs and Yuuri has to bite the inside of his cheek  _ hard  _ to prevent any sounds from escaping. He can  _ feel  _ Victor. And then he feels hot air brush against his face and his eyes snap open and he pushes Victor away.

“Bed!” Yuuri squeaks out. 

It seems like drunk Victor enjoys this idea because he skips down the hall and into a room. Yuuri grasps his chest and thuds his head back against the door.

Victor almost  _ kissed him. _

He lets out a shaky breath and tries to ignore how fast his heart is pounding, how hard his dick is straining in his pants, as he makes his way further inside to make sure Victor didn’t accidentally impale himself on anything.

When he peers into the bedroom, however, he realizes his fears are unfounded. There Victor is, lightly snoring as he sprawls across the large bed. 

_ He’s kinda cute like this,  _ Yuuri thinks as a dopey smile finds its way onto his face. Significantly more calm now, Yuuri starts digging through Victor’s apartment  _ politely  _ to get a glass of water and the aspirin bottle to put on his nightstand. As he’s about to walk out the door, however, he stops. Maybe he should write Victor a little note? Just in case he forgets tonight?

Worrying his lip, he begins a new search for some paper and a pen to write out  quick, succinct note for Victor. After an embarrassing amount of attempts to write something decent, he finally places the finished note next to the water and makes his way out of the apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone~ Just a friendly reminder that the minor relationship tags are going to be in this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy~

**Two days later, Los Angeles, California**

As Yuuri scans the large gathering, he’s immediately drawn to a bright head of red hair. It’s _Queen,_ in a lovely high necked maroon dress. Seconds later he spots Sara and starts towards her. It takes Sara only a few moments to finally look his direction and then she’s all smiles and waves him over.

“Misaki!” she greets him happily as she kisses both of his cheeks.

“Sara,” Yuuri responds just as enthusiastically, “emerald suites you.”

“You think?” Sara does a little twirl in her deep emerald dress. It really does accent her eyes.

“Yeah, I do.” Yuuri lets his eyes trail appreciatively over Sara’s curves before laughing brightly as Sara’s arm winds around his waist.

_“Remember why you’re here, Peaches.”_ Phichit’s voice grounds him and he glances to where _Queen_ is standing only to meet turquoise eyes and then Yuuri automatically slips a secret smirk on his face. One he then has to fight to keep on his face as he notices _Victor_ standing next to her.

_There’s no way Victor would recognize me, there’s no way he will,_ Yuuri keeps repeating to keep his panic at bay as _Queen_ and _Silver Fox_ make their way towards him. He feels Sara’s grip on his waist tighten as they get closer and Yuuri extends his hand towards them.

“Natalya.”

_Natalya_ grips his hand lightly and places a soft kiss—wait that is _definitely_ a tongue that touched him!

“Misaki, a pleasure, like always,” she purrs out and then smoothly transfers his hand to Victor’s waiting one. “This is my cousin, Dmitri.”

_“Peaches oh my_ god _did she just introduce_ you-know-who _as fucking_ Dmitri?” Yuuri’s trying too hard not to spontaneously combust at having his hand in Victor’s to fully register Intel over his earpiece.

Victor’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he places a polite peck on his hand. Yuuri’s not sure whether to be relieved or sad. Maybe both.

“Charmed,” _Dmitri_ says when he rights himself.

“Likewise,” Yuuri reigns in his disappointment and cracking heart to play his part with a smile.

“I’ll leave you be, Natalya,” Victor says as he cooly walks away without looking back.

Yuuri has to forcefully turn his attention back to the two ladies of his working love life. The air is thick as Sara and Natalya stare at each other. _Their animosity has never been_ this _intense,_ Yuuri thinks worriedly as his fingers rub his lucky golden snowflake charm he pinned to his garter. He starts when Natalya meets his gaze.

“Would you like a dance?”

Yuuri lets out a shocked little gasp that’s covered up by Sara’s indignant huff.

“If Misaki is going to dance with anyone, it’s going to be _me._ ” Sara tugs Yuuri so he’s forced to take a few steps closer to her.

_“Get it, Peaches!”_

_“Ow-ow!”_

Natalya just smiles a mysterious smile that leaves Yuuri confused as Sara leads him away.

•••

Sara’s hands are hot brands on Yuuri’s waist as they twirl around the dancefloor. Yuuri plays “catch up” with  Sara, mentioning all the things that _Misaki_ has done since the last time they saw each other.

“Thank you again for the invitation.” Yuuri hears Intel’s smothered laughter as they tell Seung-gil about how Yuuri texted Sara and Sara’s _enthusiastic_ response.

“It’s really no trouble”—Sara pulls Yuuri flush against her and Yuuri desperately tries to remember how to breath—”It’s my pleasure to bring you.”

Yuuri’s face must match the red underside of his dress as his brain works overtime to think of something to say. They slow down as Sara brings her fingers to his cheek and she opens her mouth—

_“Sara!”_

Yuuri watches as Sara’s face morphs into one of disdain as her brother—Michele, Yuuri learned shortly after meeting Sara—elbows his way onto the dancefloor towards them.

_“We’re here to do business, not fool around.”_ Michele gives him a slightly frowny nod but continues speaking Italian, _“We need to go,_ now.”

Sara sighs as she looks back at him and gives him a sad smile. “I’ve got to go now, _dolcezza,_ but maybe we can get breakfast together before you head back to Japan?”

“Sure,” Yuuri agrees and then is rewarded with a small peck on the lips.

Yuuri watches the siblings briskly walk away, speaking in hushed Italian he can’t hear over the music.

“ _Sweetheart,_ huh?”

Turning, Yuuri’s really _not_ surprised to see Natalya standing there. Honestly, Yuuri’s not surprised that Natalya knows Italian, either.

“I suppose so,” Yuuri allows his gaze to follow his _not actually his_ girlfriend as she leaves the party.

“Hmm,” Natalya gives a non-committal hum and Yuuri can _feel_ her _staring—_ ”You can’t possibly be satisfied with _that,_ though.”

Yuuri finally meets Natalya’s gaze with his eyebrows raised in challenge. “Is that so?”

“Very much so”—Natalya’s smirk turns shark-like—”Perhaps a demonstration is in order?”

•••

The door to _whatever_ sideroom bangs against the wall as Yuuri’s pushed backwards into it, lips locked with Natalya’s and hands gripping her arms. One of Natalya’s arms flies behind her to slam the door shut and then both are sliding through his hair at the back of his neck. He lets out a squeak as she _pulls._

Thank fuck they switched from wigs to clip-in extensions a year ago.

Yuuri’s back hits the wall and he gasps, Natalya immediately taking advantage to deepen their kisses. Hands travel down his sides and grip at his hips as Natalya’s mouth trails wet, hot open mouthed kisses down his neck.

“There’s not much time _now_ for much,” Natalya breathes out over his spit-covered throat, making goosebumps form, “but maybe in two weeks we can meet up again.”

“T–Two weeks?”

“Mmm,” Natalya places another kiss before answering him, “yeah, I have some work in Washington D.C. to do, so maybe after I can stop by Tokyo and we can have some fun.”

Work. Natalya—no— _Queen_ has _work_ in the capitol. _Shit._ It’s this thought that makes him realize he hasn’t heard Intel on his earpiece in a worrying amount of time.

He gasps as Natalya _bites_ him and the door flies open, startling the both of them.

It’s _Victor._

Yuuri wants the floor to open up and swallow him. He’s out of breath with Natalya crowding him in, hands groping his thighs, and lipstick smeared over his lips and down his jaw and neck.

_“So this is where you went off to, Natalya.”_ Victor says with an indifferent tone and without a second glance at him, _“We don’t have time for you to be messing around with whores.”_

_Ouch._ Yuuri averts his eyes and flushes with shame. That...he supposes that _is_ what his job is.

_“She’s close to Sara, she’s valuable as more than that and you know it.”_ Natalya’s words are crisp.

Close to Sara? Yuuri struggles to try and retain everything he’s hearing even as the broken pieces of his heart shatter further. Who knew Victor could be so _cruel?_

_“You don’t have to be necking her to get that information.”_ This Russian sounds _nothing_ like the Russian softly spoken to him in the taxi, or spoken to Vicchan. Yuuri holds onto his dignity with a tenuous grip.

_“Hah!”_ Natalya barks out a sharp laugh, _“I always forget you aren’t one to go by standard protocols.”_

Standard protocols? Does that mean that _all_ Russians typically use sex appeal to get information? Are all their operatives part-honepot? Is...is _Victor_ like this as well? Yuuri’s head swims dizzyingly as more and more questions arise from the conversation, but one thing’s for certain: he needs to leave.

Yuuri tries to subtly make himself presentable again, starting with wiping some of the excess lipstick off his face. This has, predictably, the opposite effect as it draws Natalya’s, and therefore _Victor’s,_ attention back to him.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to exclude you from the conversation.” Natalya’s brow draws down in what appears to be genuine concern, “My cousin’s just an idiot.”

“R–Right.” Yuuri carefully extracts himself from Natalya’s grip and smoothes out his dress. “I should, uhm…”

With his head down, he scurries past Victor into the bright hallway. His breathing ramps up and he needs to make it _somewhere_ before the tears fall. His earpiece crackles to life after being quiet for so long.

_“—me? Oh my god what if we’ve really lost Peaches?!”_

_“Sweet Cheeks.”_ Yuuri sobs with relief at hearing Phichit, rounding the corner into a deserted hallway as tears start flowing.

_“Peaches!”_

_“Oh shit!”_

_“So you’re_ not _dead.”_

_“Dr. Jekyll!”_

_“You can’t just_ say _that!”_

_“Well...just me...—tion.”_

Great, his comms are still on the fritz. He hopes that they shut up long enough to get his message.

“I need an extraction.” Yuuri takes a steadying breath and he reaches for his lucky charm—that’s _gone._ Yuuri’s panic reaches an all time high and he tunes out his fuzzy earpiece as he frantically looks around for it. He turns the corner only to nearly run into _Victor._

Victor, who’s holding his golden snowflake pin.

•••

_Shit._ Did Victor hear him ask for an extraction?

“Missing something?” Victor’s cold tone cuts through his panic.

_He heard,_ Yuuri thinks as he clenches his jaw tightly and stares Victor down, _he knows._ “Give that back.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“That’s none of your business.” Yuuri grits his teeth, even if he _did_ know where he got it, he wouldn’t share with _this_ Victor.

Victor cocks his head to the side and Yuuri watches a sexy smirk form on his face. “Then I guess it’s no problem for me to hold onto it.”

“Fine! Okay! I’ve always had that pin.”

“Bullshit”—Victor steps closer to him and Yuuri backs up—”Who are you?”

_Shit, shit shit shit._ He _needs_ to keep his identity a secret at all costs.

“Uh.” Yuuri takes another step back; Victor follows.

“Where did you get this?” Victor thrusts the pin into Yuuri’s face and Yuuri’s back finally meets the wall.

Yuuri steeled his nerves before meeting Victor’s piercing gaze, finding none of the warmth he knows there. The tension grows thick in the air around them and Yuuri watches in horror as Victor’s expression morphs from one of cold rage to confusion.

“Yuuri?”

Panicking, Yuuri shoves Victor _hard_ and takes a few more backward steps down the hallway. He grimaces as this puts him farther away from his lucky charm, but he’d rather not see Victor’s heartbroken expression closer up.

“Why?” Victor sounds _just as_ heartbroken as his expression, and Yuuri swears his heart is being put through a shredder.

“It–It’s not what—”

“It’s not what I think?” Victor interrupts, “Then tell me, _Yuuri,_ what _should_ I think?”

Yuuri opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Static fills his brain and his only real thought is: _I have to leave._ Adrenaline forces his body forward and his lips crashing down onto Victor’s. They both go down in a flurry of expensive clothing and pained gasps.

Pulling himself up onto his elbows, Yuuri stares down at a shocked and flushed Victor who has Yuuri’s lipstick over his lips. His eyes flicker to Victor’s hand that’s loosely clutching the pin before he quickly leans back down and kisses Victor again, using the momentary distraction to grab his pin.

Victor recovers faster than Yuuri anticipated, and ends up flipping them, pinning Yuuri underneath him. Victor’s thumb brushes his bottom lip and then Victor’s kissing him again, all passion and heat. Yuuri’s eyes flutter closed as Victor’s kisses grow softer and softer, until Victor places one last lingering kiss on his lips before placing his forehead on his, panting slightly.

As much fun as getting kissed senseless by Victor was, now that he’s _breathing_ again the dull throbbing from his side draws his attention. The fall and the subsequent flipping must have irritated his wound. Hopefully he didn’t reopen anything; Minako would have his head if he ended up ripping the few stitches he did get out by doing something like _this_.

He _really_ needs to leave now.

He grunts as he flips them, taking in Victor’s shocked expression as he straddles him.

Yuuri places a chaste kiss on Victor’s lips, and before Victor can wrap his arms around Yuuri again, he’s pushing himself up and off, already halfway towards the exit before he looks over his shoulder to see Victor still sitting on the ground, dazed.

A little hysterical chuckle works its way out of him as he pushes the door open and heads out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend! Here's a chapter so I don't forget tomorrow since I'm currently working on getting my spookyweek fics done!!
> 
> Enjoy~  
> ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

**The following day, Detroit**

It’s a testament to how terrible he must have looked when he got back that Phichit allowed him to sleep in and even made him breakfast before bringing up the gala.

“So, uh, how’d it go yesterday?” Phichit tentatively asks him as he’s cutting into his pancakes.

Yuuri quickly shoves his too large piece of pancake into his mouth to avoid answering for a few seconds longer. Remembering the later parts of the night has him flushing horrendously, and he viciously tries to stop recalling the feeling of laying on top of Victor, of Victor on top of _him_ , the heat between them—

“That good, huh?”

Coughing, Yuuri finally manages to swallow his pancake. “N–No, nothing like that, uh”—he stares at his food; Phichit will _know_ otherwise—”Took too big a bite, you know?”

“Riiight.”

_Fuck,_ he’s going to have to spill everything _eventually._ For now he just settles on biting his lip and finally meeting Phichit’s smug gaze.

“I kissed him,” Yuuri blurts out, unable to keep that detail to himself any longer.

“Him?” Phichit raises an eyebrow, “Weren’t you there with Sara?”

“At first...yes…” Yuuri trails off, averting his gaze again.

A long, withering sigh.

_“Yuuri.”_

“Well—! Sara had to leave after we danced because her brother came up to us and so they took off, but then apparently _Queen_ wasn’t satisfied with the—rather indecent might I add—hand kiss at the start of the night and _she_ flirted with _me_ and so we ended up in an empty room and things just _happened_ and I really was wondering where Intel went because you guys were just _gone—”_

Yuuri takes a deep breath in, the whole night finally catching up to him and he hides his face as the sobs and tears spill forth. It’s not like he _didn’t_ want to kiss Victor—he very much _did_ —but _not like this._ He feels arms wrap around him and then he finally registers Phichit’s little shooshes and soft words of caring.

When his full body sobs morph into little sniffles and shakes, Phichit releases him in favor of picking up a whining Vicchan at his feet and setting him on his lap.

“Here, have a pupper and feel better.”

“Thanks.” Yuuri accepts Vicchan with a watery little smile. Vicchan _always_ makes him feel better.

Phichit scooches his chair right next to his, close enough in case he needs another round of Phichit pampering.

“I’m here if you’re ready.”

“Right.” Yuuri pauses to figure out how he wants to say what he needs to say. This is probably all going to go on an official report and it’s the least Yuuri can do for Phichit to give a concise series of events but…Yuuri has to ask the question that’s been bugging him since he flew out of the building. “What happened to our connection last night?”

“Honestly? No one has a _clue_ why we suddenly got a warped signal, or when it would drop completely. I’ve been trying to help the IT department out for most of the night, that is, until you came back.”

Yuuri nods as he continues to pet Vicchan. “Have you checked my earpiece?”

“Yeah.”

“The CIA’s tower?”

“It’s nothing on _our_ end, Yuuri.” Phichit sounds so tired and defeated. “Think. Can you recall? Did anything happen for those moments that you realized you weren’t connected?”

Frowning, Yuuri thinks back over the night, trying to remember when he didn’t think he was connected versus when Intel was just being quiet. He groups these up together and then tries to figure out a common denominator.

“The times I was near Natalya, uh, _Queen_ , I noticed there wasn’t any chatter.”

“It was just that one time, yes?”

“What? I was near _Queen_ near the beginning of the gala, and then again halfway through.”

Phichit’s face crumples up in thought. “We only heard her approach you after Sara left, and then it cut out again shortly after your, uhm, little _escapade_.”

“It came back after that, though.” Yuuri replays the events. “And then it cut off again when—”

The realization renders Yuuri mute. Of course. _Victor._ That would make sense, seeing as Victor was _with Queen_ at the beginning, and why it cut out in the room, and why it cut out again in the hallway.

“Yuuri?”

Disregarding Phichit, Yuuri meets Phichit’s eyes to tell him what he wanted to tell him earlier. “I kissed Victor.”

•••

After Phichit calmly explaining to Yuuri that he’s pretty sure Victor’s lips _aren’t_ magical—Yuuri disagrees—Yuuri scurries off to his room for some quiet time. He needs to process everything. The universe has other plans, however, and his phone lights up with a call. He freezes; it’s _Victor._

The ringing gets louder and Yuuri flails a bit and ends up accepting the call in his attempt to silence the phone. _Fuck._

_“Yuuri?”_

_Double fuck._ Yuuri tenses up—maybe he could say his service went out? No wait, maybe he accidentally answered because his phone was in his pocket? Do buttdials work in reverse? Butt acceptance? He worries his lip.

_“Please answer me, Yuuri.”_ Victor’s voice sounds so small and tinny coming from his phone’s speakers.

Yuuri sighs before bringing the phone up to his face. “Hey, Victor.”

_“Yuuri! We should talk—”_

His phone is pulled out of his hands and before he can even turn around his ear is getting pulled on.

“Ow! Phichit!” Did he forget to close his door? Or did Phichit hear him answer his phone? Just how good _is_ Phichit’s hearing that he can listen in on a hushed conversation happening behind a closed door?

His phone—call already ended—gets placed back in his hand as Phichit huffs.

“Less than an hour ago you were having a meltdown over him”—Phichit places his hands on his hips—”And now you’re talking to him?”

His phone lights up and he reads the beginning of the text Victor sent him. So does Phichit.

“Scratch that—now you’re making plans to meet up with him?”

“Hey, he called me first!” Yuuri argues as more messages pop up. He mutes his phone.

They stare at one another. Phichit narrows his eyes. Yuuri raises an eyebrow. Phichit concedes.

“Fine. Go see the guy who you kissed as Misaki yesterday.”

“Actually…” Yuuri looks down at his lap, “Victor knows I’m me.”

“Whoa, hold up. You want to go meet the guy you’re crushing on—don’t look at me like that I know you are—who’s a spy, who also knows _you’re_ a spy, and tell me again why you think this is a good idea?”

Yuuri bites his lip and sniffles. “He must hate me, Phichit.”

“Shit, uh,” Phichit stumbles, “I’m sure that’s not true, you’re fantastic Yuuri, and if he wants to keep his tall ass Russian legs unbroken he better return you in one piece.”

“You mean it?”

“Every word.” Phichit nods. “I won’t hesitate to cut a bitch over you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri giggles as he wipes his nose on his sleeve.

“Just promise me,” Phichit continues, “that you’ll meet in a _public_ place, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri says with a smile.

•••

After Phichit leaves his room, Yuuri finally lays down to evaluate his current predicament. Twirling his phone, he thinks about the last twenty-four hours—or more specifically—the few glorious moments he was stuck to Victor’s face. His phone falls from his hands as he brings them up to cover his blushing face. He really _did_ kiss Victor. And now Victor wants to talk to him.

_Victor wants to talk to him._

Yuuri hurriedly picks his phone up where it landed on his bed and scrolls up through— _wow_ how can one person send _that many_ texts in such a short time? He starts at the _Oh no we disconnected :(_ and goes through the plethora of _wait did you do that on purpose? are you mad at me?? D:_ and a few _please talk to me! It can be through texts! I don’t mind!_ ending with a picture of Makkachin and a rather well put together message of _let’s meet at the café later so we can clear the air._

That last text seems...not in line with Victor’s state of mind in the previous texts. Pushing that aside, Yuuri supposes that the café _is_ in a public place, like Phichit wants, so he shoots a quick confirmation. Immediately the typing dots pop up and Yuuri holds his breath.

He quickly sets his phone down, the anxiety of waiting too much. Instead, he goes to pull his box of trinkets out, intent on putting his pin in there and _keeping_ it in there for safekeeping. The stinger gleams from where it’s nestled into his box and he picks it up and twists it around with a wry smile. This stupid piece of metal is responsible for the throbbing pain in his side. Thankfully he _didn’t_ need to get treated for heavy metal poisoning.

Wait.

His hands stop and he brings the stinger closer. There’s a small thread sticking out from the seam. Curious, Yuuri unscrews the headcap and then his stomach leaps into his throat. Right there, nestled snugly inside the cap, is a surveillance bug.

_Shit._ This has been here the entire time! Yuuri tries to stem the sheer _terror_ that builds—how many conversations between him and Phichit have been listened in on? Is this one of the bugs that have GPS? His heart nearly stops. With shaky fingers he reaches into the cap and yanks the bug out. He doesn’t find a power button, so he sets it on the ground, sends an apology to Seung-gil who will have to piece it back together again, and then brings his foot down, the faint _crunch_ sounding out in the quiet of his room.

Trying to get his breathing under control, he immediately thinks of how much shit he’s going to be in when he brings this to headquarters. A thud from outside his room startles him and poor Vicchan, who jumps up from beside him with a couple barks and starts scratching at the door. Wondering what Phichit dropped again, Yuuri pokes his head out his bedroom, only to find Phichit sticking his head out of _his_ own bedroom.

“Did you—?”

“Was that—?”

They both pause as they talk over one another. Phichit recovers faster.

“If _I’m_ updating my instagram, and _you’re_ texting loverboy…” Phichit pauses with a big frown on his face, “Then who’s flying the plane?”

Yuuri groans. _Man,_ why did Phichit force him to watch old American films? He diligently finishes off the quote. “What do you mean, ‘who’s flying the plane?’ Nobody’s flying the plane!”

Phichit cackles as they both come out of their rooms with matching grins and listen to Vicchan bark at full volume at the door.

“Expecting something?” Phichit whispers to him.

Yuuri shakes his head.

“Huh.”

_Oh no._

“Phichit, no.”

“If _I’m_ not expecting something…”

_“Phichit!”_ Yuuri hisses.

“And _you’re_ not expecting something…”

Yuuri levels Phichit a withering look. Phichit simply smirks.

“Then who’s the deliveryman at the door?”

“I hate you so much sometimes.” Yuuri’s whispered declaration is punctuated by another loud knock at the door, followed by Vicchan’s _oh so vicious_ yaps that reach a fevered pitch.

“You love me,” Phichit smugly replies.

Yuuri stays silent as he walks towards the door. He most certainly _does_ love Phichit—but he swears if this is another _fucking_ glitter bomb...

Securing Vicchan in his arms, Yuuri opens the door to find a small, cheetah-print hooded figure. The person turns around and then Yuuri’s face to face with none other than _Lightning._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo everyone! Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far! They really make my day so much better!  
> And thank you to all those who are too shy but still come for each new chapter!! ♡
> 
> This chapter holds the final picture! And! Once again there's a little Russian in here, so if you're on computer you can hover for a translation, and I have a footnote for mobile viewing.
> 
> Enjoy~! （⌒▽⌒ゞ

“Can I...help you?” Yuuri cautiously asks as he stares at the small blonde. 

“I sure fucking hope so,”  _ Lighting  _ huffs before crossing his arms, “Going to let me in or not?”

“Ah, sure…?” The words are barely out of his mouth before  _ Lightning  _ is pushing past him. He has no time to warn Phichit, and a loud exclamation and the sound of a gun cocking has Yuuri rushing into the living room. 

Phichit’s standing there in the hallway with his 9mm trained on  _ Lightning  _ who’s scowling and reclining on their couch, feet up on the coffee table. There’s a small grocery bag by his feet.

Without taking his gaze away, Phichit tilts his head towards him as he addresses him. “Yuuri.”

“Yes?”

“What.”

There’s a pause as Phichit’s face matches Yuuri’s own confused face as  _ Lighting  _ responds at the same time Yuuri does. “What?” Phichit lowers his gun slightly.

_ “I swear the old man has lost his touch if  _ these guys  _ managed to fool him,” Lighting  _ mutters under his breath in Russian before speaking in English, “That’s my name—Yuri.”

“Riiight.” Phichit finally breaks his stare and shoots a questioning look over at Yuuri.

Yuuri shrugs. He has no clue what’s going on.

“Believe it or not, I don’t care”—his face turns red as he looks out the window—”I’m just here to make sure  _ Yuuri  _ understands his responsibilities.”

“My what?” 

_ “Of course it’s the quiet one.”  _

“Excuse me?” Phichit puts the safety back on and then puts his hands on his hips. “I may not speak Russian but that sounded vaguely threatening—”

“All Russian sounds vaguely threatening, Phichit, we’ve gone over this on multiple occasions,” Yuuri wearily states as Phichit continues to give the Phichit Patented  _ Someone messed with Yuuri in front of me  _ rant.

“—and I simply won’t stand for that,” Phichit finishes.

“Wow,” Yuri scoffs.

“So! You’re going to go by Yurio from now on as retribution.”

“Fuck off.”

Phichit levels his gun at Yuri and clicks the safety off. “After you,” he states sweetly.

Yuuri swears he can  _ hear  _ Yuri’s teeth grind together as he spits out a harsh “Fine.”

And then Phichit’s back to his normal bubbly self as he thumbs the safety back on and holsters his gun, casually leaning on the wall like he  _ wasn’t  _ just about to shoot a kid for making an off-handed comment in a language he didn’t speak about what he assumed was his best friend.

“So, what’s in the bag?”

•••

Yuuri fiddles with the charm that’s  _ still  _ in his pocket to avoid crushing the chocolate bar that Yurio had given him.

(“He likes chocolate, so here”—Yurio handed over the chocolate bar with a scowl—“Just don’t melt it on your way to the café.”)

As he rounds the last corner his heart skips a beat as he notices Victor sitting facing away from him at the same table they sat at before. His silencer feels much too heavy where it’s strapped on his belt underneath his jacket. He hopes he won’t need to use it.

“Victor,” Yuuri announces himself as he passes by Victor and slides into his seat. He can’t help the smile that comes out just by looking at Victor again.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers sweetly with his signature heart smile. 

This is good; maybe Victor  _ doesn’t  _ hate him for lying all this time. Awkwardly he brings out the chocolate and slides it across the table. He watches Victor’s long fingers pick it up and then looks up to see the surprise on Victor’s face.

“White chocolate?” Victor questions with a grin, “That’s my favorite!”

Yuuri let out a soft relieved laugh as he blushes. “I’m glad.”

Victor’s heart-shaped smile grows and he opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the waiter coming and setting drinks down in front of them. Yuuri stares at the green tea filled cup for a moment before meeting Victor’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Tea?” he asks as he watches a blush spread down Victor’s neck.  _ So pretty, I wonder how far down his blush goes… _

“Uhm, yeah,” Victor starts, “yes. Tea. I try not to drink coffee after four.”

He... _ he tries not to drink coffee after four. _

Yuuri bites back a laugh as he remembers all the caffeine-fueled all-nighters he pulled back in college. “I could probably drink three espressos and still fall asleep afterwards.” 

He  _ did  _ fall asleep once after three espressos, but Victor didn’t need to know this.

“Oh.” Victor’s face falls.

“Tea is fine!” Yuuri quickly adds, “I do drink lots of tea anyways, and besides,  _ you  _ picked it out for me. So I’ll drink it.”

The heart smile comes back and Yuuri thinks it’s worth the mildly embarrassing statement. He takes a sip of the fragrant tea and makes a little agreeable noise. It’s  _ really  _ good.

“You’re very good, you know.”

“What?” Yuuri’s brow furrows.

“At”—Victor pauses to nod and gesture before continuing in a whisper— _ ”you know.” _

“Know what?” The moment the words are out of his mouth he realizes. “Ah.”

Victor’s face turns a very appealing shade of red and he takes an extra long time taking his next sip of tea. Maybe Victor’s thinking about him in the dress; it  _ was  _ a very pretty dress. Victor sets his teacup down and clears his throat.

“I’m just really thankful I gave you that pin.”

Yuuri’s confused face comes back but Victor keeps talking, eyes glued to his own teacup.

“I mean, it’s  _ got  _ to mean something to you if you kept it all these years, and to even carry it with you on missions! I  _ am  _ more than shocked that you’re uh. Well, that you do what you do. But I don’t mean that in a bad way! I’m sure you’re incredible in bed.”

Victor’s eyes finally glance up to his burning face and Yuuri’s aware that his mouth is hanging open.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Victor is quick to add on, “I just meant that you never really  _ called  _ or  _ texted  _ so it makes sense now that I know what you do, and your preferences.”

His...preferences? Does he think—?

“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathes out as he figures this out. “Victor, no, I’m gay. Like,  _ really  _ gay. Like,  _ I want to mash my face against yours more  _ gay.”

Well  _ shit,  _ that’s totally  _ not  _ how he wanted to confess. He flounders as he tries to get his shit together. To his credit, Victor  _ does  _ look rather stunned, so maybe Yuuri appears more calm than he feels.

Something nagging at the back of his head finally breaks through and he finally processes what Victor has told him.

“Wait, back up. You didn’t give me my pin,” Yuuri ignores his thudding heart as he tries to get the conversation back into safer waters, “I found it one morning in my pocket, and I’m  _ sure  _ I would remember someone like you giving me something.”

That seems to sober Victor up as he puts on a serious face. “No, I gave Chris that pin to give to you three years ago. I watched him put it in your pocket.”

“Three years ago?” Now that Yuuri thinks back, he really  _ has  _ had the pin for quite a while.

“Yes! It was at a party, you were there with a little tan guy who was a little shorter than you and now that I know you’re gay—oh my god was that your  _ boyfriend?! _ He kept giving me the stink-eye every time I looked in your direction so I sent Chris in.” Victor finishes the recap with a smile.

“Okay first off, Phichit and I are just friends, always have been, but secondly, a...party?” Yuuri rakes his brain and finally pulls out the beginning of that night. “Oh.  _ Oh.  _ I was drunk.”

“That was obvious.”

Yuuri blushes, but continues. “No, see, I get  _ blackout  _ drunk sometimes.”

Victor’s face falls and Yuuri hates to do this, but he really has to get it all out. “My best friend invited me, and he knows how much I  _ hate  _ crowds, so I may have pre-gamed the party a bit too much. I don’t remember anything from that night after we got into the taxi to go there.”

“The Los Angeles gala was a large crowd.”

“That’s different—Los Angeles was work related.”

“So you don’t remember when Chris put the pin in your pocket.”

“No.”

“And you also don’t have any memories of the note I wrote to go with that pin.”

Yuuri shakes his head.

_ “Three years,”  _ Victor mutters in Russian as he closes his eyes and takes another sip of tea,  _ “I should have just delivered that note myself; want something done right...” _

Yuuri fiddles with his empty teacup as Victor finishes his tea, opens his eyes, and stands up. He straightens out his shirt before holding his hand out towards him with a dazzling smile.

“Take a walk with me?”

Yuuri gingerly grips Victor’s hand.

•••

Yuuri’s sure his face is going to stay a permanent shade of red for the rest of his life. Here he is, holding hands with  _ Victor  _ in the park as the sun sets. He hopes his palms aren’t sweaty.

Victor starts swinging their linked arms and Yuuri can’t resist giggling. Victor laughs and his eyes crinkle. Yuuri desperately wishes this is possible. That, despite his job, despite  _ Victor’s  _ job...that they could be together. That this could turn into something  _ real.  _ The thought sobers Yuuri up.

“Is this...are we okay?”

Victor stops and takes hold of his other hand. Victor’s still sporting a faint blush from his laughing as he solemnly states, “We’re more than okay. Yuuri, I…”

“I?” 

“I like you a lot, too.” Victor lets out a big breath.

“Oh.”

“And I know that you’re a  _ you-know-what  _ and I’m also a  _ you-know-what  _ but I don’t care about that. Let all that be someone else’s problem.”

Victor steps closer to Yuuri and rubs his cheek. His finger comes back wet. Lifting his now free hand to his face, he feels the wetness that’s running down his face. He’s crying—why is he crying?

“I’m so sorry!” he’s quick to state as he turns away from Victor and scrubs the tears away from his face. “It’s just that...no one’s ever really said those words to me.”

“Oh,  _ Yuuri _ .” Victor’s hands gently pry his own hands away from his face and then Yuuri’s forced to face Victor’s pretty blue eyes, and his pretty little nose, and his pretty little mouth, and—

“Come on, let’s go up.” Victor nods to the building they’re standing next to and Yuuri startles to see that they’re next to Victor’s apartment building.

Yuuri gnaws on his lip because Victor’s apartment is  _ exactly  _ the type of place where other Russians might be waiting. Russians who would do anything to get the knowledge he has. But...Yuuri looks back at Victor’s hopeful face and decides.  _ Sorry, Phichit. _

He nods and then they’re halfway through the lobby and entering the elevator before Yuuri can even blink.

“Vic—”

He’s cut off by Victor’s lips on his own, desperate and hot and everything Yuuri needs at the moment. So Yuuri kisses Victor back with just as much passion, just as much neediness, gripping Victor’s coat as Victor pushes him until his back meets the elevator wall.

“Ah…” Yuuri moans out in the small space of the elevator as Victor’s lips latch onto his neck and his hands find their way inside his coat.

The  _ ding  _ of the elevator snaps both of them out of it and they hurriedly untangle themselves from one another. Thankfully Victor’s apartment is the only one on his floor; they won’t have to deal with accidentally running into anyone. A quick turn of Victor’s key and then they’re inside his apartment. 

It’s quiet—and dark, now that the sun has set. Yuuri tenses as Victor shrugs his coat off and helps Yuuri out of his. When Victor flicks the lights on he relaxes marginally; no one else is out in the common area at least. 

Yuuri’s pulled and his back meets the wall again as Victor presses up against him, much closer this time. His body feels like it’s on fire— _ Victor’s  _ body feels just as hot. His gun holster digs into his hip and all movement ceases. Yuuri holds his breath as Victor lifts his head from where it was in the crook of his neck to meet his gaze.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

It is, in fact, both, but Yuuri simply nudges Victor away from him enough to take his silencer out. The temperature drops significantly as Victor’s teasing face falls into a mask of indifference, but Yuuri can see the emotion swirling in Victor’s eyes.

“I see.” Victor takes a step back and lets his arms fall with his palms facing Yuuri. “Go ahead, I won’t stop you, if that’s what you want to do. I’m unarmed.”

“What?” Yuuri is sure his panic can be read clearly on his face.

“Shoot me”—Victor grabs his wrist that’s holding his gun and yanks it up, forcing Yuuri to steady it with his other hand as Victor digs the barrel into his chest, right above his heart—”Just don’t miss.”

Yuuri feels his adrenaline kicking in, his heart rate levels out and his situational awareness gets sharper. His shaking hands steady and he stares at where the gun must be painfully digging into Victor’s skin, even with his shirt as a barrier. His mind swims with scenarios of what if he did?  _ What if he didn’t?  _ How badly could this go either way? He finally musters up the courage to raise his gaze to Victor’s face and takes in the concealed hurt, the unshed tears threatening to fall, the last little smoldering embers of hope in the small crease between his eyebrows.

But then Victor’s mouth opens and Yuuri watches in horror as he  _ sees  _ the words being formed.

“Let’s end this.”

•••

“You don’t mean that.” Yuuri watches Victor stare right back at him.

“I do, if that’s what you want; you pulled your gun, now do something about it.” 

Yuuri furrows his brow as his emotions run rampant.  _ Who does he think he is?!  _ a voice that sounds eerily like Phichit’s rings out in his mind,  _ just leaving all the decisions up to you in this relationship. You should punish him for his stupidity, not shoot him for it. _

Wait. Why is his Mind Phichit telling him to work things out? Shouldn’t he be screaming at him for going up into Victor’s apartment?

_ Why would I? I’m your Mind Phichit!  _ it chimes cheerfully,  _ I can see all your logic as to why this will work, and why you should put the gun away. _

Right. But first, “Who’ve you told about me?” he asks Victor, voice steady.

Victor gives him a small, grim smile, “No one.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yura figured it out on his own, somehow.”

A beat passes as Yuuri studies Victor. And then Victor whispers a quiet, “I’ve never lied to you.”

Yuuri lowers his gun with a frown. “You called me a whore!”

Victor’s quick to raise his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay in my defense, technically it wasn’t  _ you _ I was talking about. Furthermore, I was talking to Mila, not you—hang on—you can speak Russian?!”

Mila? Yuuri files that tidbit away to think on later.

"Да, говорю,”[1] Yuuri huffs in exasperation. 

_ “Yuuri!”  _ Victor crushes him in a tight hug, lips locked to his. Distantly he hears his gun clatter to the floor. “I  _ knew  _ you didn’t really want to shoot me!”

“I never  _ did _ want to shoot you!” Yuuri is quick to defend himself, “That was all  _ you _ .”

“Huh,” Victor nods his head a bit before stopping and looking down at where Yuuri is still squished on his chest, “Then why’d you bring a gun?”

“Wh—I—” Yuuri blinks, “Why  _ wouldn’t  _ I?”

“Because you love me!” Victor answers cheerfully. 

Yuuri’s face heats up. “You think because I brought a gun to a potentially  _ life threatening  _ situation it means I don’t love you?!”

A moment of silence passes as Victor’s face screws up in thought. And then he replies, grinning down at him.

“Yep!” 

“Well you’re wrong,” Yuuri responds hotly, “I do.”

_ “Yuuri!” _

_ Fuck. _

“That almost sounded like a marriage vow!”

“Victor, shut up and kiss me.”  _ Before I die from embarrassment,  _ he thinks as he grabs Victor’s face; it is  _ much  _ too early in this  _ not-quite-a-relationship  _ relationship to be thinking about  _ marriage. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1"Yes, I speak it,"[return to text]


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween~! ♡＾▽＾♡

There’s a crash as a picture frame falls off the wall as the two slowly make their way towards the bedroom. A half-hearted muttered apology towards a broken _whatever_ now laying in the wake of their passionate foreplay in the hallway. The lights aren’t even turned on as they shed the last of their clothes as they pass through the threshold of the bedroom.

Yuuri’s breath hitches as he takes in Victor’s well-sculpted body that seems to glow in the moonlight streaming in and he has a moment to think _I’m so gay_ before Victor pounces. His back hits the soft bed and he lets out a little _oof,_ before Victor’s mouth is on his, tongue demanding entrance that Yuuri willingly gives with enthusiastic consent.

Victor’s larger body cages him in—a smooth, muscular, _hot_ body. His skin prickles with want where their skin touches, and then Victor slots between Yuuri’s legs and Yuuri throws his head back with a loud moan as the heat reaches a tipping point and it’s all Yuuri can do to keep his stuttering hips from betraying the fact that this is the farthest he’s ever gotten with anyone before.

“Ahh,” Yuuri gasps as Victor finds a spot behind his ear he never even knew was sensitive and nibbles it.

Victor pulls back and licks his lips as his fingers toy with his nipples and Yuuri feels close to bursting from all the sensations. Biting down on his finger to keep the noises at bay, he takes in Victor’s broad shoulders and the way his eyes are only focused on him. When Victor leans back in, he gently tugs Yuuri’s finger out of his mouth and whispers words over his lips.

“Let me hear you”—a kiss—”Let me hear you fall apart for me.”

Yuuri would willingly fly into the sun at this point if that’s what it would take for Victor to keep looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, naked, on top of him. Victor’s large hands trail down his chest, meeting at his waist to squeeze before moving further down, teasing the crease of his thighs.

“A–Ah, wait, Victor,” Yuuri blushes as the full weight of Victor’s heated gaze turns up to look at him from where his face is against his chest, “I’ve never, uhm…”

Victor lifts himself up to look Yuuri square in the face, an understanding falling into place. “Really?”

Yuuri scowls at Victor, though he’s not sure how effective it is while his face is on fire.

“I’m sorry,” Victor laughs lightly.

“You don’t _sound_ very sorry.”

“No no, you misunderstand”—Victor shakes his head—”It’s rather funny to think that the best honeypot agent there is is a virg—”

“You don’t have to say it like that!” Yuuri squeaks as he cuts Victor off. “Besides, I’m not the best agent in _anything_.”

“There are _plenty_ of people who would disagree with that statement, but forgive me for being selfish and wanting you to only think of _me_ while you’re in my bed.”

Yuuri blushes harder but holds Victor’s gaze. “Promise me you won’t ever take your eyes off me.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

Victor wastes no more time, immediately going back to sucking large hickeys over Yuuri’s chest as his hands tease his thighs. Yuuri lets the sounds he was holding in out—an assortment of moans, whispered pleas, and Victor’s name fall from his lips. Yuuri forgets everything that’s not Victor’s hands on his skin, his lips that whisper praise as Yuuri falls apart underneath Victor.

A wet finger touches his entrance and he jolts, hands immediately scrabbling to find purchase on whatever part of Victor he could reach—which just so happened to be Victor’s hair. He grips it with a shaky grip as he looks at Victor’s mouth that’s _oh so close_ to his dick. Victor licks his lips and Yuuri whimpers as a bead of precum falls onto his stomach.

“Relax for me”—Victor kisses the top of his dick and it twitches again—”I promise to go slowly.”

“But what if I don’t want slow?” Yuuri blurts out suddenly and now he’s hyper aware of their position: Victor’s hot breath passing by his most sensitive area, Victor’s smooth finger rubbing lower. He silently curses his small competitive streak.

Victor’s eyes widen before he lets out a chuckle and nuzzles the inside of Yuuri’s thigh. “You never cease to amaze me, Yuuri.” He punctuates his sentence by worshipping the exposed skin until Yuuri _feels_ the throbbing of new bruises. And then Victor creates matching marks on his other thigh.

Yuuri’s not sure whether to tell Victor to continue or to beg him for _something, anything, everything._ He must have said this last part out loud, because Victor’s face pops up from between his thighs and a smug smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, _Yuuri”_ —Victor pushes a long finger inside him and he gasps—”I’ll give you everything I have to offer and _more_.”

Yuuri’s not sure he could handle _more_ than just Victor. Not if it means Victor’s hot mouth surrounding his dick in addition to his firm tongue pressing against the head. His head swims as he tries to hold on to some semblance of sanity as Victor begins to move his finger in and out of him.

When Victor pushes a second finger into him, he flails and pulls at Victor's hair. “W–Wait, Victor!” Yuuri keens.

Victor pauses.

Yuuri breathes heavily as he opens his eyes he doesn't remember closing. He's halfway inside Victor's mouth still, two fingers still stretching him out. His dick twitches at the sight and he sees Victor try to smile where his lips are stretched over him. And then Victor pulls off of him slowly, swirling his tongue around the head of his cock and that's it. Yuuri’s whole body tenses as stars dance in his vision. With horror, he watches as thick ropes of come streak across Victor's shocked face and open mouth.

“I'm _so_ sorry!” Yuuri is _mortified_. But he can't run because his whole body feels like jello—that—and also because Victor’s still between his legs, pinning his lower body to the bed.

“Why are you apologizing?” Victor looks like the cat that got the cream as he smirks up at Yuuri while chasing the falling drops of his release with his tongue. “It felt good, yes?”

“Y–Yes, but…” Yuuri trails off, still out of breath and panting. Victor's lewd display isn't making things any easier for Yuuri to string together coherent thoughts. As it is, Victor's thumbs that are rubbing over the marks on his sensitive inner thighs are making his whole body twitch and prickle with want.

“You didn't even flag a little,” Victor points out as he rubs some come off his cheek onto his dick before licking it off.

Yuuri whimpers at the borderline _too much_ sensation. And then Victor starts spreading his two fingers out inside him and then it really _is_ too much.

“Ah! Vic—!” he cuts himself off with a gasp as electricity shoots up his spine, making him arch off the bed.

“Found it~” Victor hums as he inserts a third finger into him.

Yuuri can’t find it in himself to even call Victor out on his smug declaration, not when he can’t control the small thrusts of his hips nor the fevered noises spilling from his mouth. Victor’s mouth drags up his stomach until it pauses near his waist. It isn’t until Victor places a light kiss there that Yuuri realizes that’s the spot he got shot—the ugly ragged red mark of a freshly sealed wound. He’s sure a _good_ spy wouldn’t get shot in the first—

“Looks like we both have our fair share of injuries and scars.”

Yuuri’s eyes snap to Victor’s and he lets the surge of emotions flow over him as Victor places another kiss there before sliding up to kiss him properly. He tastes himself as Victor kisses him deeply, their tongues tangling together. How does Victor know exactly what to say to break down all his defenses? He feels so helpless to Victor's draw—a moth to a flame—and Yuuri would gladly let Victor burn him up.

“You're thinking too much again,” Victor whispers, “should I remind you where you are?”

Before Yuuri can respond, Victor pulls his fingers out and Yuuri feels the loss acutely. Then something much larger than fingers nudge against him and his breath hitches.

“There you go”—Victor eases into him with tiny rolls of his hips—”Just focus on what’s happening right now.”

There’s no way Yuuri _could_ ignore the patient, leisurely way Victor fills him up—even if he wanted to. By the time Victor's hips meet his, Yuuri swears he can feel Victor in his _throat_. Yuuri’s thighs are twitching where Victor's holding them and Yuuri isn't sure where he ends and Victor begins.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Victor rolls his hips in a small thrust, causing him to go just the slightest bit deeper. “I believe that's what we’ve halfway accomplished.”

Yuuri sends a small scowl Victor's way before purposefully clenching around Victor.

Victor gasps and grips him harder. _“Shit.”_

Serves him right.

“Is that how this is going to go?” Victor asks with a huff.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Yuuri says sweetly.

“I guess I'll just have to show you, then,” Victor growls out before pulling out slowly only to thrust into him quickly.

Yuuri cries out and grips the sheets below him, unable to do anything more than take what Victor gives him. He’s _sure_ that Victor is leaving finger-shaped bruises on his hips. Victor’s tongue is poking out his mouth as he concentrates, his brown drawn down—Yuuri has enough brain cells to manage to think _I’m so gay_ for the umpteenth time that evening.

And then as if Victor heard what he’s thinking, he smirks and leans down to kiss him hastily before moving along his jaw to nibble his ear. Yuuri feels as though his ears are stuffed with cotton, the noises of the room blending together into a ringing melody.

Wait.

Victor pulls back to shoot Yuuri a curious look as Yuuri realizes the ringing isn’t in his head, but is his cell—in his pants that landed next to the bed. Yuuri desperately wishes he could ignore the call...but it’s _Phichit’s_ ringtone. Which means unless Yuuri wants the CIA to bust into the apartment guns blazing and see both him and Victor in their birthday suits doing…

“I should, uhm”—Yuuri flushes horribly, it’s like having a third parent, except this one knows _everything_ about _anything_ he does—”If I don’t…”

Victor, ever so kind, leans over the side of the bed to grab his pants and Yuuri bites back a moan at how it makes Victor shift inside him. As Yuuri quickly gets his phone out and accepts the call he sees Victor give a sly smirk.

Oh _no_ —what is Victor planning?

“Hey,” Yuuri answers, hoping to every power that is that he _doesn’t_ sound as breathless as he feels.

There’s silence and Yuuri holds back a groan— _busted_.

_“Aw_ hell _no,”_ Phichit’s exasperation is a tangible thing as he immediately starts berating Yuuri, _“tell me you aren’t.”_

“Phichit—”

_“Don’t you ‘Phichit’ me, mister. Here I am worried because it’s been literal_ hours _and you’re just living it up. So tell me, how’s his bed?”_

Yuuri gasps as Victor rolls his hips a little, forcing him to bite his lip _hard_ to keep other noises in. He shoots Victor what he hopes is a properly chastising glare before responding.

“Who says we’re in his bed?”

Yuuri can _hear_ Phichit facepalm and he closes his eyes to save himself from the embarrassment of seeing Victor’s amused face.

_“Well, I guess I don’t have to make katsudon tonight, then.”_

_Katsudon._ Yuuri remembers the first time using the phrase; it was Phichit and his first real code for an extraction—seeing as having katsudon was a sure-fire way to have him home in time for dinner.

“Ah”—Yuuri makes the mistake of taking his eyes off Victor and has his nipples viciously attacked by long fingers as soon as he opens his mouth—”No, no you don’t.”

He viciously hopes that Phichit can’t tell what’s going on this side of the phone. The lingering silence tells him otherwise.

_“Riiight. Well, I suppose I’ll call tomorrow afternoon; at the rate you’re going you’ll probably sleep until noon at the_ earliest.”

Yuuri bites his lip but doesn’t move to correct Phichit. He’s probably right. “Okay Phichit, talk with you later.”

_“Oh, you can be sure of that!”_

Yuuri hears the end call noise play but he’s already dropping his phone off the side of the bed as he continues to stare up at Victor.

“You’re terrible,” Yuuri huffs, “you know that?”

“That is not the first time I’ve been told,” Victor states as he covers Yuuri’s body once again to whisper in his ear, “but I’m sure you don’t believe that.”

“I suppose not, no.” Yuuri shivers as Victor seems intent on picking up right where they left off.

“Good! Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Yuuri has no idea what _else_ Victor could want to do, but Yuuri will gladly let Victor do anything he wants.


	11. Chapter 11

Yuuri wakes up aching yet pleasantly warm. He hears movement next to him and he tenses up and moves to get away from the threat—or at least he _would_ if there wasn’t an arm slung across his waist. He shivers when a light chuckle sounds right by his ear, the hot breath tickling his neck.

“Good morning.”

Yuuri’s breath hitches at the quiet, gruff acknowledgement. _Fuck_ , Victor’s voice just sounded so smooth, even first thing in the morning; Yuuri’s sure _he_ would sound like a strangled gremlin, but still, he turns around to give his own acknowledgement.

Nearly forgetting what he was about to say when he turned around to be face to face with the most handsome man, Yuuri still manages a simple, “Morning.”

He must not sound _too_ bad though, since Victor lights up like a Christmas tree and pulls him into his chest. The movement causes their hips to align and Yuuri blushes as he hides his face in Victor’s neck. He _knows_ it’s a completely normal, biological—

“Can you feel how hard you make me?” Victor asks with a small roll of his hips.

_“Victor!”_

“Yes, Yuuri?”

“You can’t just _say_ that!” Yuuri tries to burrow further into Victor. Now he really _is_ embarrassed.

“But why not? It’s true.” Victor shifts his hand that was lightly skimming his back in between them, running teasing caresses up their lengths. “Are you trying to tell me that you _aren’t_ turned on when you’re _this_ hard?”

Victor grips their combined dicks and gives them a firm stroke. Yuuri can’t help the jerk of his hips and the small, pleased noise that comes out of his mouth. He feels Victor’s light huff of laughter.

“That’s what I th—”

Victor’s cut off when _Eye of the Tiger_ starts blasting from the floor. He sighs as he closes his eyes. There’s a few moments of awkwardness as Victor rolls on top of Yuuri to reach his phone before answering and flopping back down.

“Yura!” Victor greets cheerfully before his voice darkens, “Why are you calling?”

Yuuri hears the loud response, acknowledges the fact he probably _should_ listen in on the conversation but...Yuuri still needs to return the favor from last night. As he shifts he simply grins at Victor’s momentary confusion, and then he ducks under the covers and ends up face to dick. Victor lifts the covers to look down at him with a bemused expression.

There’s talking coming from the phone still, but Yuuri can wait; he didn’t get to where he’s at in the agency by being impatient. When there’s a pause in the conversation and Victor _finally_ opens his mouth to respond, Yuuri attacks.

Victor moans as Yuuri tries to take all of him in one go, only to have to pull back when he gags. Tears form but Yuuri is determined—he can hear the chewing out Victor’s getting and that spurs him on to do more. He tries to mimic what Victor did to him last night, and uses his tongue to press against what he hopes are Victor’s sensitive spots.

He feels Victor drop the blanket and grip his hair. The darkness underneath the covers only lasts for a few moments before the hand in his hair reaches to throw back the covers. At least now Yuuri won’t sweat to death before he gets Victor off, and now he’s got a really good view of just how low that blush travels down Victor’s neck, and chest, and—

_Focus!_

Yuuri flits his eyes back up to Victor’s and hopes he looks sexier than he feels as the tears finally fall down his cheeks. Fighting back another gag, he _finally_ gets Victor securely down his throat—lips touching Victor’s hips. After a few breaths, Yuuri swallows.

The reaction is immediate; Victor’s tugging on his hair as he bites his lip. So, obviously, Yuuri swallows again. Then again. Yuuri feels the thump from the phone being dropped onto the bed and then both of Victor’s hands are fisting his hair, trying to pull Yuuri off.

“Yuuri, _fuck_ ,” Victor gasps out as he finally lets his voice out, “wait, please—”

Yuuri hums and then Victor’s throwing his head back with a loud cry. The first spurt of Victor’s release takes him by surprise and he fights his cough long enough to pull back a little and swallow everything Victor has to offer. It’s only after Victor’s arms go limp, one going up to flop over Victor’s face, does Yuuri fully pop off Victor’s softening length.

Yuuri sits up and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as Victor brings his other hand up to hide his face. The blush still hasn’t left.

“Yuuri”—Victor’s whines are muffled behind his hands—”I didn’t wanna.”

“Oh? You didn’t wanna what?”

_“That.”_

“‘That?’” Yuuri teases, a grin grows on his face as Victor squirms.

_“You know.”_

“Oooh, you mean come down my throat?”

It’s worth saying something so crude when Victor’s hands come flying off to reveal a very embarrassed but offended face.

“Yes!” Victor all but shouts.

Yuuri freezes; maybe he shouldn’t have done that, what if Victor really didn’t want to and now he’s ruined everything simply because he couldn’t let go—

“Wait, I mean”—Victor hands flail a little as he reaches out to grab Yuuri’s—”I _do_ want to do _that_ but I wanted to give you more warning, and maybe not when I’m on the phone, even though that was hot as fuck and completely surprised me—and I _like_ surprises—but you were really just too hot to handle and I can’t help but be so overwhelmed when you act like that.”

“Really?” Yuuri asks after a moment.

Victor sits up with a smile and places soft kisses on his knuckles, “Really really.”

Yuuri blushes and can’t believe his luck in having Victor feel similarly. He opens his mouth to say as much but ends up being interrupted by Victor’s discarded phone.

_“Hey assholes!”_ Yurio’s voice comes across loud and clear, _“I would_ ‘really really’ _like to never ever hear any of this shit again.”_

There’s a pause and Yuuri shares a sheepish look with Victor. Victor mouths _‘he’s just like this, don’t worry’_ . It’s not that Yuuri’s _worried_ so much as he’s _embarrassed._

_“Call me when you’re done choking your boyfriend, Victor.”_

The line clicks dead and then it’s Victor choking.

···

To say Yuuri’s nervous as he walks up to headquarters is an understatement. He tugs uselessly at the collar of his shirt, desperately hoping it covers the worst of the marks littering his neck. He _did_ make sure to chew Victor out for that, but he ended up losing that battle as Victor simply smiled and stated _‘Well you liked it, so what’s the harm?’_

Keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he steps inside, he isn’t prepared at all for Phichit.

“Did you get mauled by a vampire?” Phichit snickers and points at the large, blossoming red marks his shirt doesn’t hide.

Yuuri tugs on his collar again as the lingering people in the foyer turn to look at him. “Phichit—”

“Yuuri!” Celestino’s voice carries down from the second floor balcony and Yuuri jumps. “My office!”

Yuuri shrinks down and reluctantly moves to follow Celestino into his office. This time for sure he’s going to lose his job—he just _knows_.

He shuffles into Celestino’s office and begrudgingly raises his gaze to meet Celestino’s warm one. Celestino motions to the door.

“Go ahead and close the door.”

As the door clicks, all Yuuri can think of is a litany of _shit shit shit_ with a _I really_ am _getting fired_ thrown in there. Slinking across the room, he sits in the chair he sat in a couple weeks ago and grips his knees in his hands to stop them from shaking.

“Intel told me an interesting story this morning,” Celestino starts, voice bright.

_Shit, shit, shit._ Yuuri’s now _positive_ that he’s not only going to get fired, but that he’s going to be branded a traitor for sleeping with the enemy.

“They told me that, despite your identity being revealed, you still met up with a known enemy and ended up inside their home.”

Yuuri nods helplessly.

Celestino sighs as he brings a hand up to massage his temple. “Why must you always find the most convoluted way of doing things?”

Puzzled, Yuuri looks up to find Celestino’s exasperated smile.

“Keep up the good work.”

Yuuri blinks.

Wait, _what._

“Yuuri, did you really think we’d get rid of our best honeypot agent just because he _finally_ started _actually_ sleeping with the enemy?” Celestino’s laugh rattles the windows of his office and Yuuri is _so_ confused.

The answer is _yes, yes he did_ , but instead he settles for his default. “I...don’t know?”

“Well, now you do! Off you go.”

Yuuri doesn’t need to be told twice. He high-tails it to his desk and sighs as he plops down, all too aware of the multiple sets of eyes on him.

“Soooo”—Phichit leans over his desk to insert himself in Yuuri’s personal space—”What did Tina have to say?”

Yuuri looks distrustfully over at Phichit’s shit-eating grin, but answers anyways, “He said I can continue seeing Victor.”

“Well, so long as I get to plan the wedding.”

“Phichit! It’s not like that!” Yuuri blushes because there’s no way that could ever happen...right?

_“Phichit, it’s not like that,”_ Phichit repeats in a mocking voice, “Okay, sure, whatever you say.”

Yuuri suppresses a groan as Phichit scooches his chair back to his desk.

_“I’m_ so _gonna plan you the biggest wedding,”_ Phichit mutters in Thai under his desk.

This time Yuuri really _does_ groan as he lays his head on his desk. Today’s going to be a long day.

···

He spends the entire day red-faced, partly due to Phichit’s teasing remarks, partly due to Victor’s increasingly sappy texts throughout the day. He nearly runs out of the building when his “official” day is over, eager to meet up with Victor for dinner. Phichit catches up with him effortlessly and talks Yuuri into letting him dress him for his “first date with his boyfriend.”

It isn’t worth arguing with Phichit over this mistake—as much as Yuuri wishes Victor really _is_ his boyfriend—but he will definitely let Phichit pick out his outfit, as long as he doesn’t choose the super tight fitted black jeans.

So, naturally, when Phichit picks out his outfit, those jeans are included.

“I’m not wearing the super tight fitted black jeans, Phichit.”

“Why _not,_ Yuuri?” Phichit whines as he continues to try to push the jeans into Yuuri’s arms, “They make your ass look _great_ , even if Victor’s already seen it—and if he hasn’t then _damn_ I need to find a man who can make _me_ sound like that _—_ ”

“Fine!” Yuuri snatches the pants out of Phichit’s hands, “At least you chose my favorite shirt.”

“Okay, sweet!” Phichit bounds out of his room and then calls back to him moments later, “Oh! So that means you’ll let me do your hair, too, right?”

Yuuri purses his lips; might as well. “I guess.”

“Woo!” Phichit cheers and Vicchan goes yapping down the hallway to the bathroom to join in on the fun, “Vicchan! Your owner’s got a hot date and he’s gonna show up _hotter_.”

Yuuri chuckles at their antics and tries not to think too hard about _just_ how hot Victor is, because no one is hotter than Victor, _especially_ not himself. But as Yuuri looks in the mirror as Phichit coerces him into wearing his contacts for once, his hair slicked back and his shirt a deep blue with a swirling pattern accenting his waist, he thinks—hopes—that maybe Victor will be impressed.


	12. Chapter 12

Fiddling with his jacket sleeves, Yuuri tries not to think that he’s been stood up. Victor _said_ he wanted to meet here...three minutes ago. And he even showed up early just in case Victor showed up early. Maybe he should go now, before someone comes out of the restaurant and asks him if he wants a drink or something again. He doesn’t need any pity drinks, _thank you very much_. Before he can doubt himself _again_ , he hears his name being called and looks up to see Victor waving at him while walking towards him.

“Yuuri! I almost didn’t recognize you”—Victors eyes dart around Yuuri’s face for a moment before meeting his eyes again—”You look really pretty.”

“Thanks…?” Now it _really_ feels like Yuuri’s working; he gets that compliment quite a lot while in disguise.

“Yeah…” Victor trails off as he continues staring.

Yuuri blushes and silently promises to buy Phichit some of that electric blue eyeliner he’d been gushing about recently; because not only does Yuuri _feel_ attractive right now, but Victor’s reaction certainly bolsters his confidence that he might actually _look_ attractive too.

Maybe he can do this after all.

Yuuri puts on his best charming smile and nods towards the door. “We should go in now.”

Victor nods so quickly Yuuri’s afraid his head might fall off. He giggles as he reaches out to grab Victor’s hand to lead him into the restaurant. Drawing upon all of his work experiences, he manages to speak with the staff and get their drinks ordered smoothly. Victor is uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire ordeal, which would leave Yuuri more worried if it weren’t for the dopey, content smile on Victor’s face—or the fact that he hasn’t taken his eyes off him yet.

Victor didn’t even _acknowledge_ their waitress.

“Are you...okay?” Yuuri asks once they’re alone. It _looks_ like Victor’s enjoying his company—but he’s yet to actually say anything else. His statement seems to snap Victor out of whatever daze he was in.

“Oh my gosh! Yes! No!”—Victor’s face screws up in pain as he pauses to find the correct words—”I am more than okay! I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Yuuri presses, skeptical.

“Positive”—Victor’s blush goes all the way to the tips of his ears—”I was simply, uhm, lost in thought.”

“I hope you weren’t thinking of some _other_ hot Asian man that you’d rather have dinner with.” Yuuri can’t stop the doubt from bubbling up, even with Victor making googly eyes at him. But that doesn’t mean he can’t tease Victor a little for being so obvious about it.

Victor squeaks— _squeaks_ —and then downs half his water before clearing his throat and shakily stating, “N–No, I wasn’t.”

_I’m so gay_ , Yuuri thinks as he stares incredulously at Victor. He really can’t see the cold, standoffish _spy_ behind Victor, but then again, Yuuri himself dons a persona while in the field. Yuuri would like to think that this Victor, here, is the true Victor, and that all of this means something. This is probably the most involved he’s ever been with any of his official marks.

Thinking about this from a _work_ perspective sobers Yuuri quickly. He can’t ignore the fact that he _does_ feel something for Victor—how could he not? When the man seated across from him came bursting into his life in an explosion of cutesy Russian and dog kisses. If Vicchan likes him, that’s good enough for Yuuri.

It’s just bad luck they’re both spies.

•••

“It’s not that late,” Yuuri states as they make their way out onto the streets, “want to take a walk?”

“With you?”

“No,” Yuuri deadpans, “by yourself.”

A beat passes.

Yuuri’s the first to break, snorting a little at his own joke as Victor chimes in with an unrestrained laugh. Their hands find one another’s and their fingers twine together. Yuuri smiles as he leads them to a small park that’s usually empty most of the time.

“And just where are you taking me?” Victor teasingly asks.

“Oh, just a little park I like to take Vicchan to every once in awhile; it’s usually quiet and peaceful so I usually come to just get away from it all.”

Victor’s little hum in answer doesn’t tell Yuuri what Victor’s thinking, but seeing as how Victor makes no moves to stop walking, Yuuri leads on.

As bricks and asphalt turn into trees and grass, Yuuri finally turns to watch Victor’s reaction.

“There’s a _fountain!”_ Victor gasps.

Yuuri’s grin is quickly replaced with surprise as Victor starts bounding up the the little ornate fish fountain, pulling Yuuri with him. Yuuri’s foot catches on a raised mound of dirt, and as he rights himself he’s once again ever so grateful for his ballet training—Minako pushing balance on him from the very beginning.

He ends up tugging on Victor’s arm, though, as there is no way Victor’s strong grip on his could ever be broken. This means Victor turns around to watch Yuuri’s trip and subsequent save. Which _also_ means that Victor isn’t paying attention to where _he’s_ going, and suddenly there’s shouting and splashing as they land in the fountain.

Yuuri comes up sputtering, wiping his eyes to hopefully prevent any water from messing up his contacts. There’s a gasp below him and then Yuuri’s looking at a _soaked_ Victor. A Victor he’s currently sitting on.

“I’m so sorry!” Yuuri scrambles to move off of Victor, only for Victor’s hands to lock around his wrists and hold him there.

“Don’t apologize”—Victor’s grin grows and he looks pleased as punch—”I happen to enjoy winding up with you in my lap.”

He punctuates this terrible pick up line with a roll of his hips and Yuuri gasps.

“Victor!”—Yuuri hurriedly looks around—”We’re in _public_.”

“We’re sitting in a fountain.”

“Oh, we are?” Yuuri sasses, “I thought I was simply so wet for you that somehow both our clothes ended up completely and thoroughly soaked.”

Silence.

Yuuri closes his eyes and silently curses how easy it was to fall into his usual banter that’s normally reserved only for Phichit. Somehow, in the short time that he’s known Victor, he feels so at ease with him that he keeps making a fool of himself.

When the silence continues and Yuuri starts to feel awkward, he cracks his eyes open to see Victor still staring at him with wide eyes, a blush high on his cheeks. Victor’s hands let go of his wrists to find purchase on his ass, grabbing and pulling Yuuri further onto Victor’s lap.

“Ah—mmph!” Yuuri’s sound of surprise is swallowed up by Victor’s lips crashing onto his.

After his momentary surprise, Yuuri collects himself enough to grip Victor’s wet shirt and pull him closer, deepening the kiss until Victor’s groaning into it. And just as suddenly as they came together, they part to catch their breath, foreheads resting against each other.

Victor’s eyes open and Yuuri’s not sure who starts giggling first.

“So romantic,” Victor teases as he steals one more kiss before guiding Yuuri off of him.

“Hey!” Yuuri laughs as he stands up, “I wasn’t the one who pulled us into the fountain.”

“Maybe not, but you _were_ the one who tripped first.”

“That’s because I fell for you.”

Once again Yuuri is reminded that he’s got _no_ brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking to Victor. He can just _hear_ Phichit’s little cackle when he inevitably weedles all the details of tonight out of him.

“I guess if that’s the case,” Victor starts as he helps Yuuri step out of the fountain, “I’ll just have to take responsibility.”

Yuuri shoots Victor a questioning look and then Victor’s looking at him seriously. His amused smile waivers.

“What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?”

“What?”

“A friend? A lover?”—Victor steps closer and lightly grips Yuuri’s chin, thumb brushing his lower lip—”Or maybe a rival? A mark to get information from?”

Does—Does Victor not think he’s serious? Does Victor think this is all a game?

Yuuri shakes his head out of Victor’s grip and his brow draws down in confused anger. “No!”

“No?”

“Victor, I don’t want you to be any of those—I just want you to be Victor.”

Yuuri grips Victor’s hand in both of his and continues, otherwise he doesn’t think he’ll ever find the courage again. “You be you, I’ll be me—no spies, no hidden agendas, no ‘marks’ or games. Just Victor and Yuuri. Just”—he pushes himself onto his tiptoes and presses a quick, hot kiss on Victor’s lips—”Just us.”

Victor’s arms wind around his back, preventing him from pulling away, and then they’re kissing again. Yuuri can’t ignore the desperation he feels in their fevered kisses, the way Victor draws him closer, like he’s afraid of Yuuri running away.

“Ah…” Yuuri shivers as Victor’s lips travel across his wet jaw and start sucking on his pulse point.

He sneezes.

Then he shivers again—but this time not related to the hot mouth on his skin. Victor’s huff of laughter sounds loud as he presses one last kiss below Yuuri’s ear before pulling away.

“Let’s go get you warmed up.”


	13. Chapter 13

They don’t even _try_ to hail a cab; they’re soaked through and through. Instead, they laugh as they flick water on each other on their walk back to Victor’s apartment. Yuuri worries that they won’t be able to head inside without at least being a bit less damp, but as they make their way in, no one bats an eye at the two of them.

Yuuri contemplates how much influence Victor must have when no one stops them trekking water across the sleek marble floors and in the elevator. Either that, or the staff have simply come to understand just what kind of unpredictable person Victor is.

The hiss of Victor’s shower and the immediate billows of steam make Yuuri sigh in relief; warmth is so close. Victor starts stripping, his wet shirt slapping to the bathroom floor with a loud smack.

Now Yuuri’s warm for a completely different reason.

He watches the remaining water flow down the smooth, muscular planes of Victor’s back and he fights back a whimper. _Damn_ , Victor is _so hot_. Especially when he looks over his shoulder back at him like that.

“Enjoying the show?” Victor asks with a wink.

Yuuri blushes, but nods his assent before removing his own shirt. His blush gets worse when Victor strips off his pants and underwear—but Victor is quick to jump into the shower, leaving Yuuri cold, wet, and with his super tight fitted black jeans still on.

And therein lies his biggest problem.

Yuuri will never complain about how hard it is to take off these super tight fitted black jeans again—not when they’re plastered to his lower half like a second skin. He curses himself for allowing himself to be talked into wearing them.

Victor’s face pops out of the shower and regards him with amusement.

“Coming or no?”

“I _would_ but…” Yuuri helpless gestures to his lower half.

Victor hums as he steps out of the shower. Yuuri’s jeans get even tighter.

“I think I can help you out.”

Victor’s so close Yuuri can feel the heat from the shower rolling off of him. There’s nothing he can do except for just nod his head as Victor’s warm hands trail down his chest to grip at his cold hips.

“Wonderful! Come on then.” Victor tugs at Yuuri’s belt loops and takes a few steps back towards the shower.

“Wait, Victor, I can’t go in the shower with my pants on!”

“Well why not? They’re already wet.”

Yuuri pauses. Victor _does_ make a good point—he just hates how smug Victor’s being about it. He purses his lips, but finally relents and follows Victor into the shower.

The hot steam immediately makes Yuuri groan; he hadn’t realized just how _cold_ he had gotten. When he opens his eyes, he notices Victor staring at him. Yuuri can’t help but also notice Victor’s dick twitching. He smirks as it appears the tables have turned. Sliding his hands up his body in what he hopes is in a sexy manner, he teases some more.

“Like what you see?”

“I love you,” Victor suddenly blurts out.

Yuuri blinks.

“I–I mean—!” Victor shifts and his gaze darts a bit before settling back on Yuuri, “I love what I see, yes.”

“Victor…” Yuuri shakes his head with a small smile. The mood’s completely wrong now and Yuuri mourns the loss.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that so soon, and that’s so much pressure to put on you so early on but you were just _there_ and looking like a god that it just sort of slipped out.”

Yuuri’s glad he took out his contacts; there’s no way they could hold up to the water from the shower _and_ his tears.

“Please don’t apologize,” Yuuri starts, sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand, “It’s only too soon if I didn’t also feel the same way. Victor, I...I think I love you, too.”

This isn’t how Yuuri thought he’d be telling Victor he loved him, but the way Victor brightens as he says _‘Yuuri!’_ with a heart shaped smile, makes it all worth the slightly stilted confession.

Victor’s lips are on his again as the hot water cascades down their chests that are pressed against one another. Yuuri wastes no time in moving his hands to reach any and every part of Victor he can reach. It seems like Victor’s of the same mind, as his hands tease the top of his jeans.

Suddenly his belt loops are being tugged at again and his hips meet Victor’s and Yuuri groans as Victor grinds his hot length against him.

“Okay, please Victor,” Yuuri pants, “take these pants off me—or cut them off—anything, just _please_ do something.”

“With pleasure,” Victor purrs as his fingers worm their way inside his pants, working their way completely around.

Those long fingers skim by his dick and Yuuri whines and grips Victor’s shoulders. And then finally, _finally_ , his dick is free of its tight confinement, bobbing in the spray of the shower. Yuuri gasps as Victor jerks him off with steady, sure strokes.

Victor mouths at Yuuri’s neck before working his way lower, pausing to tease his nipples long enough to make Yuuri shiver before moving lower still. With Victor on his knees, looking up at Yuuri, Yuuri feels his heart skip a beat. His dick stands at attention right in front of Victor’s face, painting such a lewd picture that Yuuri desperately tries to burn the sight into his memory.

Yuuri lifts his feet at Victor’s silent encouragement, and then he’s blissfully naked, with an equally naked Victor kneeled before him.

Victor’s smirk grows and Yuuri holds his breath as Victor leans forward to nuzzle his dick. At the first little shaky inhale Yuuri sucks in, Victor licks a broad stripe up his length, closing his lips around the tip and sucking.

Yuuri’s hands fly to Victor’s head and he lightly grips his hair. Victor’s mouth is hotter than the steam surrounding them and Yuuri feels himself twitch inside the wet cavern. One of Victor’s hands reach up and squeeze his wrist.

“Go ahead, you can control everything.”

“R–Really?” Yuuri’s not sure if his heart can beat out of his chest, but it certainly _feels_ like it.

Victor just nods as he takes Yuuri’s cock back into his mouth and that’s all the encouragement Yuuri needs. He thrusts shallowly into Victor’s mouth until Victor seems to get annoyed at the slower pace, taking all of Yuuri in until Yuuri can feel the back of Victor’s throat against the head of his dick. Victor meets Yuuri’s gaze and raises an eyebrow.

Annoyed, and _really_ turned on, Yuuri growls a bit and starts genuinely thrusting into Victor’s mouth, groaning as Victor makes a small noise that tickles his dick. Yuuri watches in fascination at Victor’s hollowed out cheeks, his lips stretched over his dick, the hand that Victor has snuck between his own legs to grip his dick.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Victor,” Yuuri cries out, “that’s so _hot_ . You’re touching yourself as I fuck your throat— _nngh_.”

Yuuri’s not sure where the words come from. Maybe they come from a place locked away inside himself that Victor has dragged out of him, maybe they simply are his own filthy thoughts. Either way, Yuuri can’t take the time to be embarrassed as Victor moans around his cock, as Victor moves his hand over himself faster, his hips twitching forward.

“I’m gonna come,” Yuuri gasps as he pushes himself further into Victor’s throat, “Victor, I’m gonna come down your tight little throat—ah!”

Yuuri stills as he feels Victor swallow around him, as Victor’s hand grips his hip tightly, as Victor moans between his swallows. After Yuuri regains feeling in his body, he whimpers as his soft cock falls from Victor’s lips. He slides slowly to the floor of the shower, unable to stay standing after such an experience.

“Victor…” Yuuri opens his eyes to find Victor’s post-orgasmic face looking back at him.

“Holy _shit_ , Yuuri.”

“You can say that again.”

“Holy shit”—Victor leans forward and they share an out of breath kiss—”That was incredible, you’re incredible. You’re the _hottest_ man I’ve ever known—who knew that behind your shyness would be such a dirty mouth?”

Yuuri finds himself growing hot with embarrassment at Victor’s scratchy voice, a direct result of what they just did—what _he_ just did to Victor’s throat.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Yuuri states, “clearly you’ve never seen yourself.”

“Oh no”—Victor chuckles—“I have, and I’m _telling_ you: you’re _the hottest_ man I’ve ever known.”

Yuuri hums and looks down at where the water’s pooling between them. He feels lucky that Victor considers himself somewhat attractive; there’s plenty of people who would match Victor’s tier of hotness—just not himself. His hand is lightly grabbed and Yuuri snaps out of his headspace, aware once again of his surroundings.

Victor presses a light kiss onto Yuuri’s knuckles. “Maybe one day you’ll finally believe me when I say that.”

Yuuri blushes, but makes no move to defend himself. He allows Victor to place more kisses over his hand, over his palm when it gets turned over.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep telling you that every day.”

Fighting off another wave of emotion that being near Victor and hearing his sappy lines causes, Yuuri pushes to stand up and then offers his hand to Victor.

“We should finish getting cleaned up.”

Victor grins as he’s helped up. “If this is how it’s going to end, I think we should fall into fountains more often.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter~! Please enjoy ♫♫♫ :D

Yuuri is so anxious, he actually feels calm. 

He has  _ no idea  _ how Victor talked him into this—actually, scratch that—he does. After  _ who knows  _ how many more rounds of sex after their shower, Victor brought up that he’d like to go to the CIA headquarters here in Detroit.

Yuuri, obviously, freaked out a little. 

But after a few dozen more kisses and reassurances that Victor would be  _ fine  _ and that Yuuri should just trust his boyfriend—a stated fact that led to even  _ more  _ sex—he finally calmed down enough for them to plan out how this should go. Because this isn’t just about Yuuri’s job, or Victor’s, but about hopefully starting to improve relations between the United States and Russia.

He just hopes they won’t get shot or thrown into a holding cell. Who knows how the CIA will react when Yuuri brings his now  _ boyfriend  _ Victor into headquarters without telling anyone.

Victor’s hand in his is a steadying weight in his as they walk up to the building. He gives it a squeeze—which Victor returns. Right. Yuuri’s not alone in any of this anymore. Yuuri  _ thinks  _ their plan will work—better than Victor’s suggestion of  _ just walking in and figuring it out, _  anyway. 

Holding his breath, Yuuri enters the building with Victor. At first, it seems completely normal; there are the usual busybodies around the lobby doing  _ whatever it is  _ they normally do, the receptionists on the phones and filing things like they usually are. But then as Yuuri’s scanning the lobby, his locks eyes with Minami, whose jaw is hanging open, the coffee in his hand moments away from spilling out of his hands.

And then things happen so fast—there’s coffee on the floor as Minami shrieks, unintelligible as he points at the two of them. All the chatter dies as more than a dozen pairs of eyes turn to look at them. A receptionist picks up and immediately hangs up the phone when it rings. 

Yuuri sweats as he comes under the scrutiny of everyone in the immediate vicinity—and then some, as others have started poking their heads out of their offices to see what’s going on.

“Well, this is fun.” Victor has a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on his face. Yuuri’s heart goes out to his boyfriend—this must be so hard for him, essentially walking into the enemy’s base. He gives Victor’s hand another squeeze and is rewarded with a quick flash of a genuine smile.

As the flurry of activity increases in the lobby, Yuuri is ever so thankful he talked Victor out of bringing his gun.  _ That  _ had been a hard battle to win—who knew Victor was so attached to his PSM pistol? 

They wait at the doors, Victor’s cool and indifferent mask slipping into place as Phichit starts down the stairs before Celestino does. Yuuri notices Seung-gil’s bored face pop out from his lab before he, too, is calmly walking out into the lobby.

“Yuuri!” Phichit shouts over the din as he skips down the stairs.

Minami ventures closer too, staring at where Yuuri is holding Victor’s hand. Yuuri can’t read the expression on Minami’s face, but he  _ thinks  _ he looks slightly disappointed. He doesn’t get much time to consider this before Phichit reaches them.

Celestino reaches the bottom of the stairs and the whole lobby quiets. It’s like being in front of the entire class. Yuuri’s not sure why Celestino is simply waiting there at the bottom of the stairs, but he hopes it’s not a bad sign.

“I missed you last night,” Phichit states, eyes roaming over Yuuri’s clothes that are  _ definitely  _ not what he wore out yesterday.

Yuuri is well aware that he’s wearing Victor’s clothing. The too big sweater sleeves cover all but the tips of his fingers, the bottom nearly reaching his knees. He meets Phichit’s raised eyebrow with a bright blush. Mercifully, Phichit doesn’t mention the obvious. Instead, Phichit turns his gaze towards Victor and places his hands on his hips.

“Well, I hope you’re prepared.”

“Phichit—”

“No, no, Yuuri,” Phichit tsks, “Victor needs to be made aware.”

“Aware of what?” Victor asks, curiosity breaking through his mask of cool indifference.

Phichit leans closer towards Victor and glances around, like he’s about to share some big secret. Victor responds by leaning closer as well.

“Look around,” Phichit whispers, “all these people? Yeah, all of us are coming after you if Yuuri ends up hurt.”

“Phichit…” Yuuri groans. He was afraid of this—this is just like bringing your boyfriend to meet your parents; the initial shock, the myriad of shovel talks, the one relative who happens to be home at the time and turns into a sobbing mess...coming here, to headquarters, is probably a bigger step in their relationship than Victor coming with Yuuri to Japan to  _ actually  _ meet his parents. Though Yuuri wouldn’t put it past Mari to spell out her threat instead of sugar coating it. 

As Victor opens his mouth to respond, Minami beats him to the punch.

“Ohmigosh, you two are  _ so  _ cute together.” Minami is crying—he has coffee stains all down the front of him. This is a mess. 

Yuuri hears Seung-gil’s grunt from way over there and then watches as he heads back to his lab. His attention is pulled back to Minami—who’s still crying—as he grips Yuuri’s free hand and starts congratulating Yuuri before devolving rapidly into watery Japanese. Phichit’s still giving his  _ I dare you  _ look to Victor and Victor’s matching it as far as Yuuri can tell.

Celestino starts laughing and everyone else starts back up at that, going about business as usual.

Yuuri’s so overwhelmed it’s not even funny. He’s half a mind to drag Victor out and simply not return for a few hours. Maybe a few days. He’s eyeing his escape route when he hears a voice that sends ice through his veins.

“What’s going on?” Minako’s voice rings from the hallway and now Yuuri  _ really  _ wants to escape.

Minako is the closest thing to a mother he has here in the States, and if  _ she  _ doesn’t approve of Victor...he has no idea what he’s going to do.

“Yuuri!”

“Minako!” Yuuri greets, hoping to start off on the right foot, “I want you to meet—”

“Victor,” Minako finishes. She sticks out her hand.

Victor raises Minako’s hand and places a light kiss on her knuckles. “A pleasure.”

Yuuri winces—he should have warned Victor—

Minako tsks and a small frown forms. “I sure hope you don’t plan on kissing anyone else asides from Yuuri from now on.”

Victor sputters a bit but manages to come back strong. “Of course not!”

Minako squints at Victor. Victor sends her a weak smile.

“Well okay then!” Minako says brightly, “When’s the wedding?”

“What?!” Yuuri  _ finally  _ calmed Minami down, and now he’s going on about how beautiful Yuuri will look in wedding garb.

“Yuuri”—Phichit looks at Yuuri with a very serious face on, the one he gets when he’s planning something and—

“Phichit, no.”

_ “Phichit, yes.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments! They mean a lot to me and I absolutely love seeing everyone's reactions~♪
> 
> This is the end...or is it? I _have_ been toying with the idea of doing a companion fic to this one from the "other side" of things—Victor's side. That, and maybe some little short stories that go into their time together, etc etc. I've got a few other projects I'm working on, but if the interest is there, I'd like to know! 
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone!! ♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely artist Maja: [tumblr](https://mikai-art.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mikaiho)
> 
> [tumblr](https://corgispacesiren.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (R18+)](https://twitter.com/corgispacesiren) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/CreativeSweets)


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